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THE    CITY-MXT'& 


OF  THE 


GKEEKS  AND  JIQMANS 

A   SURVEY 

^"^ORY   TO   THE   STUDY   OF 
NT    HISTORY 


BY 

W.  WARDE  FOWLER,  M.A. 

FELLOW  AND  SUB-RECTOR  OF  LINCOLN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD 


ILontion 

MACMILLAN    AND    CO. 

AND   NEW   YORK 
1893 

>4  U  rinhta  reserved 


!  .  •  .    V 


I  ••,{  •  •  •  • 


c  ■•   •  •    •        •  • 


•  • •  •      •     • 


-J  CO  / 


-J^ 


3^^r 


X 


PEEFACE 

:<■  tlii.^  book  is,  I  hope,  sufficiently 
•  Victory  chapter.  It  may, 
add  here  that  it  is  an 
•  r  hei  'AN  of  lectures  given  for 
several  succesaif^e  ye  .  to  men  just  beginning  the 
study  of  ancient  history  in  the  school  of  Liter m 
H-,im-rir,nnrp,<  at  Oxford.  Few  of  these  men  were 
iiktjiy  to  oecome  specialists,  and  as  the  object  of  my 
course  was  therefore  purely  educational,  I  saw  an 
opportunity  of  stimulating  their  interest,  and  of 
widening  their  historical  horizon,  by  treating  the 
subject  as  a  whole,  instead  of  plunging  at  once  into 
the  examination  of  a  particular  period  or  author. 
It  occL-c^  ^  to  me  that  I  might  construct  in  outline 
a  biography,  as  it  were,  of  that  form  of  State  in 
which  both  Greeks  and  Eomans  lived  and  made 
their .  most  valuable  contributions  to  our  modern 
ci^  Uisation,  tracing  it  from  its  birth  in  prehistoric 
times  to  its  dissolution  under  the  Eoman  Empire. 


615537 


Vlll  THE  CITY-STATE 

Such  a  biography  had  indeed  already  been  written, 
and  by  a  man  of  genius,  the  late  Fustel  de 
Coulanges ;  but  La  CiU  Antique,  brilliant  as  it  is 
is  a  book  of  one  idea,  and  did  not  exactl]?  answer  ^^ 
the  purpose  I  proposed  to  myself.  I  wished  simply 
to  sketch  the  history  of  the  City-State,  without 
reference  to  any  particular  view  of  the  origin 
its  institutions.  -    • 

In  writing  out  these  lectures  from  the  n 
used  I  have  expanded  them  consider  ibl 
the  last  two.     They  will  pi^^ba' 
their  origin  as  lectures,  \^\ . 
be  found  less  rea'^able  on  that'r.  ±x^ 

notes  and  references  it  has  been  r .  "aixn  to  acquaint^ 
the  beginner  with  the  names  of  a  few  books  of  the 
best  repute,  both  English  and  foreign,  as  well  as 
with  the  most  important  original  authorities  for  the 
events  touched  upon.  It  will  probably  be  found 
that  there  are  more  citations  of  the  Politics  of 
Aristotle  than  of  any  one  othe^-  work ;  for  it  was 
one  of  my  chief  objects  to  connect  the  history 
of  the  City-State  as  closely  as  possible  with  the  - 
reasonings  of  its  best  philosophical  ^p^Si^t.  In 
order  to  make  sure  that  every  reader,  whecAei  he 
understands  Greek  or  not,  shall  be  able  to  find  the 
passage  to  which  I  am  referring  without  any  real 
difficulty,  I  have  quoted  the  Politics  by  the  paging 
of  the  Berlin  edition,  which  will  be  found  on  the 


PEEFACE  IX 

margin  in  all  important  editions  of  later  date,  and 

also    in    Professor    Jowett's    translation.      Only  in 

(, noting  the  first  three  books,  which  in  all  editions 

si..iD.d  in  the  same  order,  I  have  given  the  number 

of  t.  e  book  as  well  as  the  page.      In  no  case  have 

1  iivv:^u   the  number  of  any  particular  line  in  the 

i      '!j,  ted,  for  my  references  are   in  almost  all 

^i^-tters   rather  than    to    sentences,   and 

nr-^age  be  sought  out  at  all,  it  is  far 

•(^  be  read  and  weighed  in  con- 

<  ntext. 

'  jral  friends  for  much  valu- 
jn  of  the  proofs.  To  my 
< .  L' c '41'-,  iv±r.  o.  j\.  E.  Munro,  I  am  greatly 
iiiJcjbted  for  the  correction  of  several  serious  errors, 
and  for  many  other  useful  suggestions  in  the  chap- 
ters dealing  with  Athenian  h'otory.  Professor 
Gardner  has  given  me  most  valuable  help  in  the 
tenth  chapter,  and  Yiy.  Peters  of  University 
College  and  Mr.  Matheson  of  New  College  have 
been  kind,  enough  to  read  other  parts  of  the  proofs, 
and  have  enabled  me  to  correct  many  minor  short- 
comingEr;.'  "*In  spite  of  all  this  friendly  aid,  however, 
the  book  is  by  no  means  what  I  could  have  wished 
it  to  be,  and  no  one  is  more  fully  aware  of  its 
defects  than  its  author.  There  is  absolutely 
nothing  new  in  it,  and  its  only  justification  is 
that   it   is   an  attempt  to  supply  a  defect  in  our 


X  THE  CITY-STATE 

educational    literature.       As    an    introduction     to 
Greek  and  Eoman  history  it  may,  I  hope,  be   of 
some   use;    but   it  can-only   be   so     r   it .  is  used 
as  an  introduction,  and   not    fS  a  me -iiS  of  saving 
time  and  trouble  in  more  elaborate  studies.     The 
views,  for  example,  which  I  have  expressed   as  to ; 
the  tone  of  the  Athenian  Demos  and  the  capacity 
of  the  Eoman  oligarchs  must  be  criticised  an^ ""  '• 
rected  as  the  student's  knowledge  of  those 
increases ;  but  the  purpose  of  t^.     boiv 
been   fulfilled   if  in   all  such  ^' 
brings  to   bear  upon  his  work 
acquaintance  with  the   facts  of  \_»iit  period,  . 
conviction  of  the   bearing   of  the  whole  history  ol 
classical  antiquity  on  the  interpretation  of  any  one 
portion  of  it.     I  owe  this  convicti  v^  myself  chiefly 
to  the  late  Eector  of  my  college,  Mark  Pattison. 
Earely  as  his  advice  was  given,  i^  was  always   of 
unique  value ;   and   I  only  wish  that  I  had  been 
ready  and  able  to  act  upon  it  with  greater  profit  to 
myself  and  others.  "  < 


,,k»'«!iV> 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER    I 

Introductory 

M-eek  and  Roman  history  usually  studied  separately,  p.  1.  Close 
relation  between  Greek  and  Roman  civilisation,  2.  Ethnical 
affinity  of  the  two  peoples,  ibid.  Affinity  in  religion,  3. 
Difference  of  character  a  cause  of  mutual  attraction,  4.  The 
Greek  and  Italian  form  of  State  specifically  the  same,  5.  The 
word  7r6Xts ;  Latin  equivalents,  5,  6.  /Difference  between  the 
ancieiit  and  the  modern  State  ;  the  ancient  State  a  city  with 
an  adjunct  of  temtory,  7,  8.  The  ancient  State  a  simpler 
form  of  association  than  the  modern ;  more  perfect,  yet 
easier  to  ^udy,  9J  Te^t«  of  excellence  and  strength 
m'^a  jjtAte;  natural  auti  artificial  ties,  10.  Examples  of 
modern  States,  12.  The  City-State  stronger  than  these  in 
all  the  ties,  13  ;  and  therefore  liiore  instructive  as  a  study,  14. 
Other  advantages  ;  con^pleteness  of  its  life-history,  in  spite  of 
gaps  in  our  knowledge,  15.  Literary  value  of  its  records,  17. 
Its  philosophy,  18.  New  material  for  its  history  ;  inscrip- 
tions, 19.  Object  of  the  book  :  to  suggest  a  wider  treatment 
of  classical  history  in  an  age  of  specialisation,  20. 


XU  THE  CITY-STATE 

CHAPTER    II 

The  Genesis  of  the  City-Si'Ate 

The  city  as  a  State  :  strength  of  the  conception,  22.     The  ancient 
and  the  modern  State  different  in  origin,  23.     Methods  to  be 
followed   in  studying  the  origin   of  the   ancient  State,  26. 
I.  Social  organisation  of  peoples  who  have  not  yet  developed 
a  true  State,   27.     The  village  community  of  kinsmen,  ^^ 
Characteristics    of   the    village    community :     kinship 
government  by  headman  and  council,  31  ;  common 
tion  of  land,  32  ;  common  religious  worship,  33.     II.  ^ 
for  the  existence  of  the  village   community  in   Greece 
I      Italy,    34.      III.   Evidence  of  the    survival   of    the   villk 
community  in  the  later  City-State  :  gentes  and  yhr]  at  Rom 
and  Athens,  36  foil.     IV.  Causes  which  brought  about  unions 
of  village  communities  in  a  City-State,  42.      Influence  of  the 
land  taking  the  place  of  kinship,  42.     Necessity  of  self-de- 
fence, 44.     Fame  of  religious  centres,  45. 

Probable  era  of  the  birth  of  the  City-State  in  Greece,  46. 
Unknown  in  the  case  of  Italy,  47.  Examples  of  the  genesis  of 
a  City-State :  Athens,  48.  Other  Greek  States,  51.  Rome, 
52.     Greek  colonies  children  of  the  oldest  City-States,  56. 

CHAPTER   III 

Nature  of  the  City-State  and  its  First  io^NOF 
Government 

How  the  City-State  differed  from  earlier  forms  of  association,  57. 

.  •  Aristotle's  dictum  on  this  point,  59.     His  view  of  the  State  as 

a  natural  growth,  61.     His  conviction  that  no  higher  form  of 

union  was  possible,  62.     Aristotle  true  to  the  facts  of  Greek 

life,  which  tended  to  exclude  both  federations  and  empires,  63. 


CONTENTS  Xlll 

Earliest  known   fact   in  the  history  of  the  City-State, — 

■- government  by  kings,  64.     The  Homeric  king  ;  one  of  many 

clieftains,  not  a  constitutional  monarch,  64-68.     (Question  as 

to  the  existence  of  the  State  in  the  Homeric  age,  65-67.) 

The  Homeric  king  as  sacrificer,   69  ;   as  commander  of  the 

host,  71  ;  as  nidge,  72.     U.-Aefined  character  of  his  power,  73. 

The  Roman  Rex ;  a  magistrate  with  clearly  defined  x^owers, 

expressed  in  technical  terms,  75.    Impervmn,  76.     Customary 

limits  to  his  power  ;..the  Senate  as  advising  body,  76  ;  2^'''ovo- 

catio,  77.      The  Spartan  monarchy  in    historical    times ;  a 

■'  -^vival  of  the  earliest  form,  78-80.     Herodotus'  account  of  it, 

^  Degenerate  character  of  this  kingship  ;   the  form  sur- 

ve4,  while  the  power  has  almost  disappeared,  81-83. 


X 

/ 


CHAPTER   IV 
The  Rise  of  Aristocratic  Government 


King,  aristocracy,  and  people  the  earliest  factors  in  the  City-State, 
85.  Kings  give  way  to  aristocracies,  87.  Aristotle's  explana- 
tion of  this,  87.  Exa^nple  in  the  Odyssey  of  a  monarchy  in 
danger,  88.  Grote's  explanation  ;  the  small  size  of  City- 
States  made  the  bad  rule  of  kings  obvious,  90.  A  further 
consideration  :  kingship,  which  is  the  political  expression  of 
an  aristocratic  society,  becomes  inadequate  as  aristocracies 
narrow,  91,  92.  "What  the  Greeks  meant  by  dpLa-TOKparia  :  its 
ethicer?f&aning  and  character  in  early  times,  93.  Narrowing 
tendencies  seen  in  (1)  degeneracy  of  the  idea  of  high  birth, 
98  ;  (2)  deterioration  in  the  use  of  wealth,  100. 

Examples  of  change  from  monarchy  to  aristocracy  ;  Athens, 
103  ;  Rome,  105.  Imperium  in  the  hands  of  the  Roman 
aristocracy ;  limitations  placed  upon  it,  108.  Imperium 
militice  and  iinperium  domi,  110.     Political  order  and  system 

'■      due  to  the  intelligence  of  the  aristocracies,  111. 


XIV  THE  CITY-STATE 

CHAPTER   V 

Transition  from  Aristocracy  to  Democracy  (Greece) 

Greek  history  begins  in  tlie  seventh  century  B.C.,  and  reveals  the 
aristocracies  narrowing  into  oligarchies,  114.  Oligarchies  hi 
collision  with  the  people,  in  respect  of  religious,  military  Md 
legal  government,  116,  Discontent  among  the  people,  120, 
The  people  in  Homer  and  at  Athens,  122.  Discontent  takes 
the  form  of  a  recurrence  to  the  strong  governmcDt  of  an 
individual,  123.     The  arbiter  and  the  tyrant,  124. 

Discontent  at  Athens  at  end  of  seventh  century  v. 
Legislation  of  Draco,  126.     Cylon's  attempt  at  tyrann^ 
Epimenides'  mission,  128.     Material  cause  of  discontent,  12& 
Solon  as  arbiter,  131.     liis  reasonableness,  132.     His  r    '• : 
theia,    134.     His   political    reforms,    136.     Estimate    cl 
work,  139. 

Tyranny :  Herodotus'  view  of  it,  140.  Aristotle's  view. 
141.  These  views  considered  in  the  light  of  the  facts,  143. 
Tyranny  brought  forward  the  people,  and  developed  art  and 
literature,  143  ;  widened  the  horizon  of  Greek  thought  and 
action,  145.  Polycrates  as  a  typical  example  of  the  tyrant 
147. 

CHAPTEE   VI      • 

The  Realisation  of  Democracy  :  Athens 

Athens  the  City-State  which  most  nearly  realised  AASt^  tie's  rb  ed 
^ijp,  150.  Pericles'  description  of  the  Athenian  democracy, 
151.  Later  opinion  adverse  to  the  democracy,  153.  Pericles' 
view  tested  by  the  facts,  153  foil.  Solonian  and  Periclean 
Athens  compared,  154.  Development  of  the  democracy 
since  Solon,  158  foil.  Pisistratus,  159.  Cleisthenes,  160. 
Final  changes,  161.  What  the  completed  democracy  meani 
at  Athens,   162   foil.     The   people  did    the   actual  work  o: 


r 


CONTENTS  XV 

government  in  legislative  and  judicial  matters,  163 ;  in 
general  administration,  164.  Election  by  lot,  167.  Respect 
for  tlie  laws,  168.  Safeguards  of  the  constitution,  170.  Scope 
for  individual  talent,  172.  Use  of  public  wealth  for  artistic 
and  educational  purposes,  173.  Genius  finds  a  home  at 
Athens,  175. 

Dra-  '  icks  to  the  democracy  :  Athens  a  slave-owning  State, 
177.  Condition  of  slaves  at  Athens,  179.  Athens  an  im- 
perial and  tyx-annic  State,  180.  Pericles'  justification  of  this, 
181.  Reaction  against  Athens  and  Peloponnesian  war, 
183. 

^  CHAPTER   VII 

The  Period  of  Transition  at  Rome 


Incredibility  of  the  early  history  of  the  Republic,  184.  But 
certa'  laws  may  be  taken  as  facts,  and  serve  as  landmarks, 
18.:.  Rise  of  the  plebs  under  Etruscan  kings,  186.  Changes 
attributed  to  Servius  Tullius,  188.  Patricians  and  plebs 
under  the  monarchy  ;  origin  and  position  of  the  plebs,  188-9. 
The  plebs  in  the  new  military  organisation  of  centuries,  and 
in  the  four  local  tribes,  190  foil.  Patricians  and  plebs  after 
the  abolition  of  the  monarchy,  196. 

Landmarks  :n  the  history  of  the  equalisation  of  the  two 
orders  :  1.  Political  assembly  of  centuries,  194.  2.  Tribunate 
of  the  plebs,  196.     3.  Decemvirate  and  first  legal  code,  200. 

4.  Pl^V^n     assembly    becomes    a    legislative    body,     202. 

5.  Marriage  between  patricians  and  plebeians  made  legal,  203. 

6.  Military  tribunate  with  consular  imperium  open  to 
plebeians,  204.  7.  Consulship  opened  to  plebeians,  205. 
Legislation  of  Licinius  and  Sextius  compared  with  that  of 
Solon,  206. 

Beginnings  of  Roman  law,  209.  The  Twelve  Tables  ;  jus 
civile^  210.     Stability  of  Roman  legal  ideas,  211. 


XVI  THE  CITY-STATE 

CHAPTER   VIII 

The  Perfection  of  Oligarchy  :  Rome 

Influence  of  war   on   Roman  constitutional  history,  213.     Rome 
tending  towards  democracy  after  equalisation  of  the  order?. 
214-216.     Aristotle's  moderate  democracy  compared  with  t 
Roman  constitution  of  this  period,  216. 

Authorities  for  the  period  which  followed,  218.     Con-,;.;'.; 
tion  democratic  in  form,  really  oligarchical,  219.     Pro.-fs  <  ' 
this :  executive  in  the  hands  of  a  few  families,  221, 
homines    the    exception  ;    examples,    223.      Magisttatt 
subordination  to  the  Senate,  224.     How  the  Senate  wf.-  ,. 
up,  225;  fed  by  the  hereditary  nobility,   227.     Pr*i'  l.i.     i 
Senate  favours  the  hereditary  principle,  228. 

Explanation   of  this  oligarchical  tendency :  1.   Moral  ;    • 
of  an  assembly  of  ex-magistrates,  230  foil.     2.  Chara.  t      -..t 
senatorial  business  growing  with  the  growing  State,  232  •'■  ' ! 
3.  Character  of  the  Roman  people,  236  foil. 

Development  of  Roman  law  by  the  oligarchy,  239.  The 
Jus  civile  insufficient  for  the  new  Roman  dominion,  240. 
Edict  of  prtetor  peregrinus  based  on  the  iiiyperium,  241.  Jus 
gentium,  242.  Influence  of  Roman  conservative  spirit  on  the 
new  system  of  law,  243. 

CHAPTER    IX 
Decay  of  the  City-State — Internal  Causes 

Spirit  of  moderation  at  Athens  and  Rome  during  the  de- 
velopment of  their  institutions,  245.  Absence  of  this 
spirit  in  many  States,  246.  Hostility  of  the  Few  and  the 
Many  in  Greece  during  the  fifth  century  B.C.,  247.  Examples  : 
Naxos  in  507  b.c.,  248  ;  Corcyra  in  432  B.C.,  249  ;  Athens  in 


CONTENTS  XVU 

411  B.C.  (negative  instance),  251.  Universality  of  the  disease 
during  Peloponnesian  war,  252 ;  called  by  the  Greeks  stasis,  254. 
Thucydides'  reflections  on  it,  255  ;  its  weakening  eff'ect  on  the 
City-State,  257.  Aristotle's  treatment  of  the  subject,  258. 
His  remedies  for  the  disease  ;  an  even  distribution  of  wealth, 
261  ;  education  in  subordination  to  the  character  of  the 
State,  262. 

Aristotle's  reasonings  applied  to  the  case  of  Rome  ;  stasis  at 
Rome  in  133  B.C.,  264.  Enlarged  scope  of  the  issues  in  this 
instance,  265.  Distribution  of  wealth  at  Rome  ;  destruction  of 
middle  class,  267.  Education  at  Rome  inadequate  to  her 
needs  as  an  imperial  State,  269.  Cato's  education  of  his  son, 
t2. 

'^^.  CHAPTER   X 


^ 


\JExternal  Causes  of  Decay — Imperial  and  Federative 

-    -.  States 

The    City -State   must    have   a  limit  of  increase  in   size,    275. 
Aristotle's  doctrine  on  this  point,  277  ;  based  on  the  normal 
phenomena  of  Greek  States,  ibid.     His  view  excludes  both 
imperial  and  federative  States,  279.     Yet  States  of  this  kind 
appear  in  Greek  history,  280  ;  they  increase  in  number  and 
strength,  and  may  ba  traced  in  three  periods,  281.     1.  Down 
to  the  Peioian  wars ;  earliest  forms  of  alliance,  282  ;  Spartan 
suprem^'^y  and  Peloponnesian  League,  282  ;  naval  power  of 
Polycrates,  284.     2.  From  Persian  wars  to  rise  of  Macedon 
confederacy  of  Delos,  286  ;  becomes  an  Athenian  empire,  288 
Spartan     empire,     290 ;    second     Athenian     League,     291 
Boeotian  League  and  Theban  supremacy,  292.     3.  Growth  of 
Macedon,     294.       Demosthenes'     antagonism     to     it,     296. 
Phocion's   attitude    towards   it  explained,    297.     Failure   of 
Demosthenes  and   Macedonian  assumption   of  leadership  of 


XVlll  THE  CITY-STATE 


Greece,  300.  Consequent  loss  of  vitality  in  the  7r6\ets,  301. 
Last  attempt  at  independence  now  taking  the  form  of  a  real 
federal  union  ;  Achfean  League,  302  foil. 


CHAPTEE   XI 

Dissolution  of  the  City-State  :  The  Roman  Empt 

In  Alexander's  conquests  Greece  came  near  to  reali; 

political    system,    306.     Alexander    representativ(,   .      ' 
ideas  ;  Plutarch's  evidence  on  this  point,  307.     Aiex 
project  of  a  Greek  empire,  309  ;  what  might  have  beo» 
result  for  the  City-State,  310.     Failure  of  his  i-lans, 
Rome  takes  the  place  of  Alexander,  312.     Rome  becomes 
imperial  State,  313  ;  yet  continues  in  form  a  City  St.%te, 
Government  of  the  Roman  Empfe-e  by  Roman  City-magisi    >, 
315.     Retention  of  the  form  of  the  City-State  in  the  proviLc:  ', 
317.     Failure    of   the  imperial  government  of    u»e   ju.  ..  <ri 
Republic ;  causes  of-  this,  320  foil.     The  City-State  ceascc  cj 
exist  except  in  form  in  the  last  century  B.C.,  322. 

Necessity  of  a  new  political  system,  323.  Julius  Csesar 
creates  one  for  the  moment',  45  B.C.,  324.  Augustus  builds 
on  Cffisar's  foundation ;  completion  of  the  "work,  325. 
Suggestions  for  the  study  of  this  new  system ;  the  imperial 
constitution,  Z2^^  Local  government,  328.  Extension  of 
the  sphere  of  Roman  law,  329.  Other  lines  of  research,  330. 
The  Roman  Empire  at  last  breaks  up,  but  ^'^^  'asted  long 
enough  to  preserve  for  us  the  treasures  of  the  City-State,  330. 


CHAPTEK    I 

INTRODUCTOKY 

^  -  :.  subject  of  study,  whether  in  schools  or  univer- 
ds,  ancient  history  is  almost  always  separated 
;  :om  modern  history ;  *and  it  cannot  very  well  be 
otherwise.  It  takes  the  learning  of  a  lifetime  fully 
to  appreciate  what  is  meant  by  that  unity  of  history, 
of  which  Professor  Freeman  was"  never  tired  of  re- 
minding us.  No  one  can.  really  grasp  the  inter-con- 
nection of  a  long  series  of-  events,  or  see  how  states 
and  empires  crumble  and  fall,  only  to  rise  again 
in  new  forms,  unless  his  mind  is  sufficiently  well 
stored  with  the  detail  which  must  be  the  material 
for  his  thinking  powers  to  work  on.  Most  of  us 
must  take- it  on  trust  that  there  is  no  region  of 
utter  desolation  lying  between  ancient  and  modern 
civili^tion,  and  dividing  them  irom  each  other ; 
most  of  us  must  be  content  to  choose  the  one  or 
the  other  ps  the  field  of  our  investigation. 

But   we   do  not   only   separate  modern  history 
from  that   of   the   Greeks  and  Eomans :    we   also 

B 


'"^   ,'JL  .     c  .  .  ^.  :    ;      THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

,  ,    ,  sppaj^1;§  ,th^  Kigtgries  of  these   two  peoples.      Or 
i  f'' i  j^aiii^/iefv-j^ij/wh^iie  they  are  studied  at  the  same 
time,  little  effort  is  made  to  look  at  them  as  one 
great  whole.     Here,  again,  want  of  time  to  master 
the  necessary  detail  is  the  cause,  and  the  legitimate 
excuse.     Yet   so  close  is  the   connection   between 
these  two  civilisations,  that  they  may  be  in  some 
respects  considered  as  one  and  the  same ;  and  at 
the  outset  of  a  detailed  study  of  either,  it  is  as  well 
to  see  whether  they  cannot  be  brought  together  i' 
some  way  which  will  make   it   impossible   fo^ 
intelligent  learner  ever  to  think  of  them  again  d 
wholly  distinct. 

Let  us  consider  for  a  moment  the  nature  of  this 
close  relation  between  Greek  and  Eoman  civilisation.' 
It  is  indeed  no  great  matter  that  the  two  races  were 
not  far  distant  from  each  other  in  ethnological 
descent.  They  were  perhaps  not  so  near  of  kin 
as  we  once  thought,  and  it  seems  to  be  now  made 
probable  that  the  Eomans  were  more  closely  allied 
to  the  Celtic  race  than  they  were  to  the  Greek. 
But  they  were  at  least  near  enough  to  each  other 
to  feel  a  certain  mutual  attraction  even  early  in 
their  history.  There  is  no  trace  of  any  such  re- 
pulsion between  them,  as  Greek  and  Phoenician 
seem  always  to  have  felt  for  each  otheTp-in  spite 
of  constant  intercourse ;  their  languages  were  both 
really  and  obviously  related,  while  the  Semitic 
speech  of  the  Phoenician  and  Carthaginian  was 
a.  sealed  book  to  both.  The  veneration  shown  in 
the  earliest  Eoman  traditions  for  the  superior  gifts 
of  the  Hellenic  race  finds  its   counterpart  in  the 


I  INTRODUCTORY  3 

admiring  curiosity  with  which  Hellenes  of  a  later 
age — a  Polybius  or  a  Posidonius — could  study  the 
manners  and  institutions  of  the  Eomans. 

In  their  religious  ideas,  too,  or  at  least  in  the 
religious     practices    on    which    our    knowledge    of 
those  ideas  is  chiefly  based,  there  is   a   close   re- 
semblance between  the  two  races.     It  was  easy  to 
identify  Greek  and  Italian  deities,  when  anything 
was  to  be  gained  by  doing  so ;  it  was  by  an  easy 
though  a  gradual  process  that  Eoman  ritual  was  so 
far  superseded   by   Greek,  that   it  is   now   a  hard 
task  to   excavate  the   genuine  Italian   practice  by 
removing  the  foreign  strata  beneath  which  it  lies 
buried.     It  is  indeed  true  enough  that  most  races 
have  been  much  readier  than   we  should   at    first 
suppose    to   adopt  the  religious   customs   of   their 
neighbours,  or  even  of  peoples   far  removed  from 
them   in   kinship   or    geographical   position.       But 
there  is  hardly  a  case   to   be  found  in  which  this 
adoption  is  so  complete  as  it  was  at  Eome.     The  / 
Eomans  believed  the  Greek  forms  to  have  superior 
efficacy,  and  they  took  them  over,  except  on  rare 
occasions,  without  misgiving.     They  found  nothing 
in    them     essentially    antagonistic    to    their    own 
notions  of  their  relations   to  the   gods.      In  spite 
of  much  diversity  there  was  a  basis  both  of  con- 
ception and  practice  which  was  common  to  both 
peoples.     There  were  at  least  two  special  points  of 
agreement :   each  believed  in  certain  great  deities 
whom  they  associated  with  their  history  and  their 
fortunes ;    and    each    looked    on    these    deities    as 
localised  in  their  cities,  -  as  belonging  to  none  but 


4  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

themselves,  and  as  incapable  of  deserting  them 
except  as  a  consequence  of  their  own  short- 
comings. 

In  regard  to  character,  it  was  just  the  very 
unlikeness  of  the  twcLpeoples  that  served  to  attract 
them  to  each  othm:.  What^the  Romaii  lacked  jthe 
Greek  could  supply, — J^Q^^  and  the  plastic  arts, 
and  the  mythologicaljancy  in  which  these  were  so 
deeply  rooted ;  the  power  of  thinking,  too,  and  the 
prp.p.inns  g;jft  of  curiosjty  which  spurs  men  to  ask 
questions  and  to  seek  for  answers  to  them.  Thus 
the  Eomans  borrowed  the  finer  elements  in  their 
civilisation  from,  the  Greeks ;  but  they  were  not 
without  something  to  give  in  exchange.  They  pos- 
sessed what  Matthew  Arnold  called  y  the  power,  of 
conduces"  in  a  far  higher  degree  than  the  Greeks — 
the  self-restraint,  the  discipline,  the  "  courage  never 
to  submit  or  yield,'N^  which  at  last  placed  the 
dominion  of  the  woild  in  their  hands.  These 
qualities  were  Regarded  almosFwith  awe  by  the 
Greek  thinkers  who  came  to  know  the  Eomans  as 
conquerors.  These,  too,  and  the  rare  power  of 
governing  which  the  Eomans  developed  out  of 
them,  made  it  possible  for  Greek  culture  to  sur- 
vive long  after  the  Greeks  had  lost  their  freedom. 

'  The  Eoman  dominion  became  a  legal  framework  on 
which  Greek  intelligence  could  be  fitted.  And 
though  Greek  and  Eoman  never  became  wholly 
amalgamated,  and  East  and  West  always  remained 
in  many  ways  distinct,  yet  the  two  great  currents 
poured  into  a  single  channel,  and  ran  side  by  side> 

Y  like  Ehone  and  Saone  after  their  junction,  distin- 


I  INTRODUCTORY  5 

guishable  from  each  other  at  a  glance,  yet  forming 
one  great  stream. 

But  what  is  of  the  greatest  moment  for  our  pur- 
-pose  at  present  is  that  these  two  peoples  developed 
the  same  hind  of  polity.  They  carried  it  out  with 
different  aims  and  with  very  different  results ;  but 
the  form  of  political  union  in  which  they  lived  was 
essentially  one  and  the  same,  and  passed  through 
the  same  stages  of  growth.  Living  as  they  did  in 
adjacent  peninsulas,  in  the  same  latitude  and  in 
much  the  same  climate,  within  easy  reach  of  the 
sea,  and  in  fertile  valleys  or  plains  surrounded  by 
mountainous  tracts,  it  was  natural  that  they  should 
develop  socially  and  politically  on  much  the  same 
lines.  Like  conditions  produce  like  growths,  modi- 
fied only  by  the  inherent  differences  of  stock,  and 
by  the  forwarding  or  retarding  influences  which 
may  be  brought  to  bear  on  them  as  they  grow. 
The  Greek  and  Latin  States  experienced  very  dif- 
ferent fortunes,  and  their  differing  characteristics 
caused  them  to  float  in  different  directions,  some 
going  straight  onward  in  a  natural  order  of  pro- 
gress, some  being  swept  into  backwaters,  and 
retarded  for  many  generations ;  but  their  State 
was  in  all  cases  of  the  same  species,  and  this  species 
was  almost  peculiar  to  themselves  among  the  peoples 
of  antiquity.  v 

This  unique  form  of  State  was  what  the  Greeks 
called  the  tj;^^  ;  a  word  which,  like  the  Latin 
urhs,  may  probably  have  originally  meant  no  mord 
than  a  fortified  position  on  a  hill,  to  which  the' 
inhabitants  of  the  surrounding  country  could  fly  for 


6  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

refuge  on  the  approach  of  an  enemy.  But  the 
Greek  of  a  more  civilised  age  came  to  give  this 
word  a  much  wider  and  deeper  meaning,  which 
it  is  the  object  of  the  following  chapters  to  explain 
and  trace  out.  By  this  word  and  its  derivatives  he 
sought  to  express  the  whole  life,  and  the  whole 
duty,  of  man ;  that  union  of  human  beings  for  a 
common  end,  which  could  alone  produce  and  exer- 
cise all  the  best  instincts  and  abilities  of  every  free 
individual.  The  Latin  race  had  no  word  which  was 
an  exact  equivalent  to  this ;  for  "  urhs "  never 
attained  to  a  meaning  so  profound,  and  "  civitas" 
which  comes  nearest  to  it,  is  less  explicit.  The 
,4iatin  race,  indeed,  never  realised  the  Greek  concep- 
Ttion  of  a  TroXt?  in  quite  the  same  degree ;  but  this 
was  rather  owing  to  their  less  vivid  mental  powers 
than  to  the  absence  of  the  phenomenon  among  them. 
Their  form  of  State  was  of  the  same  kind,  their  idea 
of  their  relation  to  it  was  not  less  definite  ;  but  they 
had  not  the  instinct  to  reflect  on  it  or  inquire  into 
its  nature,  and  had  eventually  to  fall  back  on  the 
Greeks  themselves  for  their  philosophy  of  it. 
— J  (What,  then,  was  this  TroXt?,  this  form  of  political 
union  in  which  both  these  races  developed  their  best 
faculties,  and  made  their  lasting  contributions  to 
European  civilisation  ?  Our  modern  notions  of  a 
State  hamper  us  much  in  our  efforts  to  realise  what 
the  7roXt9  was  ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  do  so  completely 
until  we  have  gained  some  knowledge  of  the  con- 
ditions under  which  it  arose,  of  its  constituent 
elements,  of  its  life  in  its  best  days,  and  of  the 
causes  which  sapped  its  vitality  and  finally  let  it  be 


I  INTRODUCTORY  7 

swallowed  up  in  a  vast  political  union  of  a  totally 
different  kind.  In  subsequent  chapters  some  at- 
tempt will  be  made  to  sketch  its  history,  and  to 
show  where  this  necessary  knowledge  may  be  looked 
for.  At  present  we  must  be  content  to  point  out 
the  most  obvious  difference  between  the  modern 
State  and  that  of  the  Greeks  and  Latins,  and  the 
•one  which  will  best  serve  to  show  the  reader  that 
the  study  of  Greek  and  Eoman  history  is  a  very 
different  task  from  the  study  of  the  growth  of 
modern  European  States — a  task,  too,  which,  in 
some  respects  at  least,  is  more  fruitful  and  more 
suggestive. 

"^  By  a  modern  State  we  mean  a  country  or  territory  / 
with  a  central  government  and  a  capital  town ;  or 
a  group  of  such  territories,  each  with  its  government 
and  its  capital,  bound  together  in  a  federal  leaguey 
like  the  United  States  or  the  cantons  of  the  Swiss 
Eepublic.  In  this  form  of  State  the  capital  city  is 
a  convenient  place  for  carrying  on  the  central 
government,  but  does  not  in  and  by  itself  constitute 
the  heart  and  life  of  the  State.  The  history  of 
modern  States  shows  that,  while  the  State  is  grow- 
ing, the  question  is  an  open  one  as  to  where  the  acts 
of  government  may  best  be  performed.  In  England 
this  in  the  middle  ages  •  was  just  where  the  king 
happened  to  be,  at  Winchester,  at  Marlborough,  at 
the  now  obscure  Clarendon,  as  well  as  in  London  or 
at  Windsor.  Even  in  much  later  times,  after  the 
complete  consolidation  of  a  State,  it  has  been  found 
perfectly  possible  to  transfer  the  government  to 
other  centres  besides  the  capital  city  ;  as  the  King's 


8  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

government  in  the  Civil  War  was  carried  on  at 
Oxford,  and  the  French  government  at  Bordeaux  in 
rl 8 7 0-71.  It  is  plain,  then,  that  in  a  modern  State" 
Ithe  so-called  capital  city  is  not  an  essential  part  of 
(the  State's  life,  and  has  only  grown  in  course  of 
time,  and  from  reasons  of  convenience  or  tradition, 
to  occupy  the  first  place  in  the  minds  of  the  people 
among  all  the  other  towns,  as  the  seat  of  their 
central  government.  It  is  plain,  for  example,  that 
by  the  State  called  France  we  mean  the  whole 
French  people  living  on  French  territory,  and  having 
their  political  existence,  not  as  Parisians  but  as 
Frenchmen,  with  a  convenient  centre,  Paris. 

But  the  Greeks  and  Eomans  conceived  of  their 
State  as  something  very  different  from  this.  Athens, 
Sparta,  Miletus,  Syracuse,  Eome,  were  themselves 
cities,  with  a  greater  or  less  amount  of  territory  from 
which  they  drew  their  means  of  subsistence.  This 
territory  was  indeed  an  essential,  but  it  was  not  the 
heart  and  life  of  the  State.  It  was  in  the  city  that 
the  heart  and  life  were  centred,  and  the  territory 
was  only  an  adjunct.  The  Athenian  State  com- 
prised all  the  free  people  living  in  Athens,  and  also 
those  who  lived  in  the  Attic  territory  ;  but  these 
last  had  their  political  existence,  not  as  inhabitants 
of  Attica,  but  as  Athenians,  as  citizens  ofHhe  ttoX^? 
of  Athens.  So,  too,  the  Eoman  State,  even  when  it 
had  extended  its  territory  over  the  whole  Italian 
peninsula,  was  still  conceived  of  as  having  its  heart 
and  life  in  the  city  of  Eome,  with  a  tenacity  which 
led  to  much  trouble  and  disaster,  and  ultimately  to 
the  destruction  of  this  peculiar  form  of  State.     It 


I  INTRODUCTORY 

is,  then,  a  City-State  that  we  have  to  deal  with  ii^ 
Greek  and  Eoman  history ;  a  State  in  which  th^ 
whole  life  and  energy  of  the  people,  political,  intelV 
lectual,  religious,  is  focussed  at  one  point,  and  that 
point  a  city.  To  understand  the  life  and  work  of 
these  two  peoples,  it  is  indispensable  to  get  a  firm 
grasp  of  this  fact ;  for  their  development  from  first 
to  last  was  profoundly  affected  by  it,  and  almost 
all  their  contributions  to  civilisation  may  be  traced 
to  it  directly  or  indirectly.-^ 

Now  it  will  not  need  much  reflection  to  see 
that  a  form  of  State  whose  most  striking  feature  is 
city  life,  where  the  social,  political,  and  intellectual 
forces  at  work  in  it  are  concentrated  at  a  single 
point,  will  be  a  simpler  problem  to  handle  historic- 
ally than  a  State  in  which  these  forces  are  spread 
over  a  wide  area,  and  over  populations  differing 
from  each  other  in  many  ways.  The  TroXt?  was  in 
fact,  in  most  respects  though  not  in  all,  a  more  \ 
perfect  form  of  social  union  than  the  modern  State, 
and  its  history,  if  we  were  more  exactly  informed 
about  it,  would  be  relatively  easier  to  understand. 
The  difficulties  of  Greek  and  Eoman  history  do  not 
lie  in  the  nature  of  the  Greek  and  Eoman  form  of 
State,  but  in  the  fragmentary  character  of  our/ 
knowledge,  and  in  the  consequent  need  of  a  pecu- 
liarly skilful  interpretation.  And  even  as  it  is,  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  the  study  of  a  compara- 
tively simple  organism,  even  with  such  drawbacks 
as  these,  is  not  a  better  introduction  to  the  science 

1  Bluntsclili,    Theory  of  the   State  (Eng.  trans.),   p.  34  foil.  ; 
Sidgwick,  Elements  of  Politics,  p.  211  foil. 


\ 


10   ~  THE  CITY-STATE  ■  CHAP. 

of  political  history  than  the  study  of  an  organism 
which  is  highly  complex.  "We  need  but  call  to 
mind  the  most  striking  institutions  which  the  modern 
State  has  developed,  such  as  Eepresentative  Govern-/ 
ment,  Federation,  or  Local  Self-government,  to  show 
how  complicated  a  problem  political  science  has 
become.  Or  if  we  look  at  the  earlier  history  of  the 
modern  State,  we  again  find  its  difticulties  increased 
not  only  by  the  imperfect  cohesion  of  the  States 
themselves,  but  by  the  presence  of  two  influences 
outside  them  which  cannot  be  left  out  of  account, 
viz.  the  Papacy  and  the  Holy  Eoman  Empire. 
The  life-history  of  any  one  Greek  State,  or  of  the 
Eoman  State  in  its  earlier  stages,  would  be,  if  we 
had  it  complete,  a  much  more  exact  and  instructive 
study. 

Let  us  look  into  this  a  little  more  closely ;  for 
at  a  time  when  classical  study  is  in  some  danger  of 
losing  its  prestige  and  of  being  left  stranded  for  the 
learned  few  to  deal  with  as  wreckage,  it  is  as  well 
to  be  sure  of  our  ground  in  claiming  an  educational 
superiority  for  it,  even  on  the  historical  side  only. 
If  it  can  be  shown  that  the  history  of  the  most 
perfect  State  is  the  best  history,  and  that  the  TroXt?  ^ 
was  a  more  perfect  State  than  the  modern  one, 
something  at  least  will  have  been  done  to^rove  the 
point  in  question. 

What  is  a  State,  and  what  constitutes  its  excel- 
lence as  such  ?     A  State  is  an  aggregation  of  free  "^ 
human  beings,  bound  together  by  common  ties,  some 
of  which  may  be  called  natural  ties,  some  artificial. 
The  chief  natural  ties   are  community  of  race,  of 


I  INTRODUCTORY  11     n-^- 

language,  of  religion,  of  sentiment  or  historical  asso- 
ciation, and  lastly  of  land,  i.e.  of  the  territory  which 
the  State  occupies.  The  most  important  artificial 
ties  are,  law,  custom,  executive  government;  these 
are  common  bonds  which  the  people  have  gradu- 
ally developed  for  themselves,  and  are  not,  in  the  ^ 
same  degree  as  the  natural  ties,  original  factors  in 
their  cohesion.  There  are  also  other  ties  which  do 
not  fall  exactly  under  either  of  these  divisions,  such 
as  the  common  interests  of  Commerce  and  of  self- 
defence. 

Now  it  is  obvious  that  a  State,  in  order  to 
deserve  the  name,  need  not  be  held  together  by  all 
these  ties  at  once.  Very  few,  if  any,  States  have 
realised  them  all.  But  every  State  must  have  what 
we  call  the  artificial  ties,  in  some  tolerably  obvious 
form ;  that  is,  every  State  must  have  at  least  some  r^ 
laws  which  bind  the  whole  community,  and  a  com-  \j^J^ 
mon  government  to  enforce  obedience  to  those  laws.  '  * 

Without  these  the  word  State  cannot  be  applied  to 
it,  but  only  some  such  vague  expression  as  ".  nation," 
or  "  race,"  or  "  people,"  words  which  in  our  language 
do  not  usually  connote  governmental  cohesion.  We 
speak,  for  example,  of  the  Celtic  race,  of  the  Irish, 
or  even  of  the  Welsh,  nation,  of  the  people  of  the 
Jews  ;  andr-?^  e  never  use  the  word  "  State  "  of  these, 
because  they  have  no  constitution  or  secular  govern- 
ment of  their  own.  Nor  can  any  community  be 
properly  called  a  State  which  is  not  wholly  inde- 
pendent of  every  other  community.  India,  for  ex- 
ample, is  not  a  State,  though  it  has  a  government  and 
a  law  of  its  own,  because  that  law  and  government 


ft 


12  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

depend  for  their  ultimate  sanction  on  the  will  of  the 
Government  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  So,  too, 
the  United  States  of  America  are  only  States  by 
courtesy,  as  it  were,  while  the  whole  Federation  is 
a  State  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word. 

While,  then,  every  State  must  be  held  together 
by  the  artificial  ties,  it  may,  so  long  as  it  is  inde- 
pendent, exist  as  a  true  State  without  any  of  the 
natural  ties,  except  perhaps  that  of  the  land  on 
which  its  members  are  settled.  But  it  will  be  seen 
at  once  that  it  will  be  a  stronger  and  more  securely 
united  State  if  it  be  bound  together  not  only  by 
the  artificial  ties,  but  also  by  those  which  we  call 
natural,  or  at  least  by  some  of  them.  The  greater  the 
/number  of  ties  operating  to  hold  a  State  together, 
the  stronger  will  that  State  be.  To  see  this  we  have 
only  to  compare  modern  France  with  modern  Austria. 
Of  modern  States,  France  has  long  been  the  happiest 
instance  of  an  almost  complete  union  of  ties  both 
natural  and  artificial;  hence  in  great  measure  her 
marvellous  vitality  and  power  of  cohesion,  which  in 
this  century  alone  has  enabled  her  to  survive  two 
conquests,  and  to  maintain  her  influence  as  a  great 
power  after  disasters  which  would  have  utterly 
crushed  a  people  less  firmly  knit  together.  Austria, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  weak  in  all  elie.  ties,  and 
especially  in  those  of  race,  language,  religion,  and 
sentiment ;  and  it  is  a  commonplace  with  politicians 
that  the  Austrian  empire  may  easily  break  up  under 
severe  pressure,  or  only  survive  by  the  help  of  allies 
whose  interests  it  at  present  serves.  The  law  which 
this  example  illustrates  will  be  found  to  hold  good 


I  INTRODUCTORY  13 

of  States  in  general,  and  to  serve  as  a  rough,  though 
useful,  test  of  their  power  of  resistance,  as  well  as 
of  their  power  of  cohesion. 

It  may  be  doubted,  however,  whether  any  modern 
State  has  realised  the  force  of  these  various  ties  in 
the  same  degree  as  did  the  City-States  of  ancient 
Greece  and  Italy.  The  city,  in  which  was  their 
heart  and  life,  could  exert  over  the  citizens  a  more 
powerful  influence  than  a  modern  country,  for  it 
was  capable  of  being  taken  in  at  a  glance  both  by 
eye  and  mind,  like  Eome  from  the  Janiculan  Hill : 

"  Unde  totam  licet  sestimare  Romam." 

The  delight  of  the  Greek  poets  in  the  cities  they       j 
celebrate,  whether  they  are   their   own  homes,  or      / 
those  of  their  patrons,  arises  from  this  feeling  of    / 
civic  patriotism  much  more  than  from  the  enjoy- 
ment of  natural  beauty  in  and  for  itself     In  regard 
to  the  tie  of  race,  the  citizens,  though  not  always 
the  whole  number  of  inhabitants,  were  homogeneous  • 
and  spoke  the  same  language  ;  and  this  meant  more  I 
than  it  does  now.      It  meant  not  only  a  binding 
connection  by  descent,  but  one  by  religion  also  ;  for 
to  believe  that  you  and  your  fellow-citizens  were 
descended  from  the  same  stock  implied  necessarily 
that  you  .^liared  the  same  worship.     The  unifying 
power  of  religion  too,  as  has  often  been  shown,  was 
itself  so   strong   and   irresistible   as   to   be   almost 
beyond  the  comprehension  of  a  modern  unfamiliar 
with  the  life  of  the  ancient  world.     The  gods  of  the    ^\ 
city  were  not  only  its  patrons  and  protectors ;  they 
were  looked  on  as  actually  inhabitants  of  it,  who 


14  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

could  not,  and  would  not,  desert  it  except  under 
conditions  too  terrible  to  be  contemplated,  ^nd  who 
were  indissolubly  connected  with  all  its  history  and 
fortunes.  N"o  wonder,  then,  that  besides  race,  lan- 
guage, and  religion,  that  other  tie  of  common  sen- 
timent, or,  as  the  Greeks  called  it,  rjOo^i  which  in 
modern  times  is  a  powerful  factor  in  nationality, 
should  have  been  doubly  strong  in  the  ancient 
world.  It  was  far  less  vague,  far  more  distinctly 
conceivable,  then  than  now;  for  as  the  city  was 
itself  the  State,  and  all  the  citizens  were  brought 
up  on  the  same  plan,  and  for  a  common  end  within 
a  limited  space,  it  was  natural  that  they  should 
look  on  themselves  and  their  city,  on  their  duties 
and  delights  as  citizens,  with  a  common  pride  and 
exclusiveness  which  we  of  the  modern  world  can 
hardly  realise.  And  if  we  add  to  all  this  the 
unifying  power  of  the  artificial  ties,  of  law  and 
'custom  and  government,  which  in  the  TroXt?  were 
at  least  as  strong  as  in  the  modern  State,  and  in 
some  cases  even  stronger,  we  get  a  picture  of  a 
Statehood — if  the  term  may  be  used — as  perfect,  it 
would  seem,  as  man  can  ever  expect  to  live  in.  ' 
That  there  were  indeed  weak  points  in  this  form  of 
State  is  true  enough,  as  we  shall  see  later  on ; 
every  organism  is  liable  to  its  own  special  diseases  \ 
or  parasites.  The  very  intensity  of  the  State-life 
within  the  TroXt?  led  in  many  cases  to  intense 
bitterness  of  faction  when  faction  had  once  broken 
out,  and  to  a  corresponding  weakness  in  the  rela- 
tions of  the  State  to  other  States,  or  to  the  less 
civilised  peoples  beyond  the   Greece- Italian  world. 


I  INTEODUCTORY  15 

Yet  on  the  whole  it  must  be  allowed  that  the  idea 
of  the  State,  with  all  its  fruitful  civilising  results, 
has  never  again  been  so  fully  realised  since  the 
7roXt9  was  swallowed  up  in  the  Eoman  Empire  ; 
the  ties  that  hold  a  State  together  have  never 
been  seen  working  together  with  such  strength  and 
vitahty. 

Does  it  not  follow,  then,  that  the  life-history  of 
this  small  but  highly -organ^d  form  of  State  must 
be  in  some  respects  peculiarly  valuable  ?  If  the 
history  of  Erance  is  a  more  instructive  study  than 
that  of  less  perfect  modern  States,  the  history  of  a 
TToXi?  must  be  more  instructive  still;  as  the  bio- 
graphy of  a  man  of  strong  character  and  original 
genius,  even  if  his  life  be  passed  in  a  comparatively 
limited  sphere  of  activity,  has  often  more  to  teach 
us  than  the  life  of  a  man  of  coarser  fibre,  whose 
interests  and  influence  reach  over  a  much  wider 
area.  If  the  best  history — history  in  the  truest 
sense  of  a  word  of  wide  meaning — is  that  of  the 
life  of  the  State  which  most  fully  expresses  the 
needs  and  aspirations  of  men  bound  together  in 
social  union,  then  the  history  of  the  TroXt?  is  so  far 
more  valuable  than  that  of  any  modern  State. 

It  may  indeed  be  argued,  in  criticism  of  this 
view,  that  We  have  no  adequate  and  complete 
account  of  the  life  of  any  one  iroXt^  from  its  birth ; 
and  that  even  in  tracing  the  history  of  Athens  and 
of  Eome,  we  continually  find  ourselves  beset  with 
doubts  and  difficulties  which  arise  from  the  scanti- 
ness of  our  information.  Here  and  there  a  sudden 
light  is  flashed  on  the  scene  we  are  exploring,  and 


16  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

the  next  moment  all  is  again  in  darkness.  The 
ancient  historians  are  often  blind  guides,  and  did 
not  regard  truth  and  fact  with  the  same  reverence 
which  science  has  taught  our  own  generation.  The 
monuments  and  inscriptions  which  have  come  down 
to  us,  invaluable  as  they  often  are,  are  mostly  frag- 
mentary or  isolated,  and  themselves  need  skilful 
interpretation  before  they  can  be  brought  to  bear 
on  the  interpretation  of  history.  Again,  the  avidity 
with  which  every  newly  discovered  scrap  of  an 
ancient  author  is  seized  upon  and  made  the  most 
of, — often,  indeed,  made  more  of  than  it  will  bear, 
— is  itself  a  melancholy  proof  of  the  hunger  for 
facts  from  which  all  students  of  antiquity  must 
suffer.  The  recent  discovery  of  the  Aristotelian 
treatise  on  the  Athenian  constitution  has,  it  may 
be  said,  only  reminded  us  of  our  own  ignorance  of 
the  subject.  And  in  Eoman  history  what  would 
we  not  give  to  recover  the  lost  books  of  Livy, 
or  the  Histories  of  Sallust,  or  the  original  works 
from  which  Plutarch  drew  his  Roman  Lives,  or 
— better  in  some  ways  than  all  these — the  com- 
plete texts  of  any  dozen  of  the  great  laws  passed 
during  the  last  century  of  the  Republic  ?  As  it  is, 
we  are  climbing  after  knowledge  in  a  misty  region 
where  endless  tracks  cross  each  other,^^hich  often 
come  to  an  end  suddenly,  or  lead  us  out  of  our  true 
direction. 

All  this  is  indeed  unfortunately  true.  But  let 
us  remember  certain  facts,  which  may  too  easily  be 
forgotten. 

First,  we  have  an  outline  knowledge  of  the  whole 


I  INTRODUCTORY  17 

history  of  the  ancient  City- State,  from  its  birth  to 
its  death.  We  know  something  of  the  way  in  which 
it  came  into  existence,  something  of  its  earlier 
stages.  We  know  a  great  deal  about  its  life  when 
it  had  grown  to  its  full  size  and  strength,  and  we 
can  trace  its  gradual  decay,  until  it  lost  its  true 
nature  and  became  material  for  a  wholly  new 
political  system.  This  is  not  so  with  the  history 
of  the  modern  State,  which  is  still  comparatively 
young.  We  can  follow  its  growth  up  to  a  certain 
point ;  but  there  we  pass  into  the  region  of  con- 
jecture, for  that  growth  is  in  many  cases  hardly  yet 
finished,  and  even  in  the  most  highly -developed 
States  there  is  fortunately  no  sure  sign  that  decay 
is  as  yet  setting  in. 

Secondly,  we  have  large  portions  of  the  history 
of  the  two  most  famous  City-States  conveyed  to  us 
in  the  form  of  priceless  literature.  Thucydides  and 
Demosthenes,  and  in  a  less  degree  Livy  and  Cicero, 
are  among  the  most  valuable  treasures  the  world 
possesses.  Even  if  we  consider  Livy  alone, — the 
one  among  these  four  about  whom  it  is  most  diffi- 
cult to  be  enthusiastic, — apart  from  a  perfection 
of  style  which  is  apt  perhaps  to  become  too 
monotonously  perfect,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be 
sincerely  grateful  for  the  preservation  of  every 
one  of  the  thirty-five  books  which  remain  to  us. 
Now  that  history  has  become  scientific,  Livy  does 
indeed  appear  to  us  full  of  sad  shortcomings ;  yet 
through  him  we  possess  not  only  a  sufficient  know- 
ledge of  the  working  of  the  Eoman  constitution  in 
its  best  days,  but  also  a  wealth  of  information  about 

c 


18  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

the  ideas  of  the  earlier  Eomans  in  relation  to  their 
state  and  their  religion.  No  such  literary  record 
exists  of  the  growth  and  life  of  any  modern  State. 
Of  Greek  literature  there  is  no  need  to  speak  here. 
From  Homer  to  Herodotus,  from  Herodotus  to 
Aristotle,  and  from  Aristotle  to  Plutarch,  we  have 
the  life  of  the  Greeks,  both  in  their  ttoX^?  and 
in  their  external  relations,  mirrored  in  the  most 
exquisite  of  languages,  or  made  the  subject  of 
profound  thought. 

And  this  brings  us  to  a  third  point.  We  have 
not  only  the  history  of  the  TroXt?,  but  also  its 
philosophy.  Its  small  and  compact  form,  and  the 
very  close  relation  in  which  the  individual  stood  to 
it,  prompted  the  inquisitive  Greek  mind  to  inquire 
into  its  nature.  Plato  and  Aristotle  saw  that  it 
was  impossible  to  search  out  and  analyse  the 
nature  of  man,  without  reference  to  the  form  of 
community  in  which  he  lived,  and  from  which  he 
could  not  free  himself.  The  State  was  the  chief 
agent  in  making  man's  life  worth  living,  and  he 
could  not  therefore  be  philosophically  treated  apart 
from  the  State.  The  study  of  the  ttoXi^  thus  holds 
out  for  us  an  inducement  which  the  modern  State 
can  hardly  be  said  to  offer.  We  have  in  the 
Republic  and  Laws  of  Plato,  and  in  t\\e- 'Politics  of 
Aristotle,  the  thoughts  of  two  of  the  profoundest  of 
all  thinkers  on  the  nature  of  the  State  they  lived 
in ;  and  we  have  also  at  least  something  of  the 
same  kind,  though  of  far  less  value,  in  Polybius 
and  Cicero,  on  the  nature  and  governn|ent  of  the 
Eoman  State. 


I  INTRODUCTORY  19 

Lastly,  we  live  in  an  age  in  which  great  store  of 
material  has  been  added  to  the  treasures  we  already 
possess.     For  three  centuries  after  the  revival  of 
learning  scholars  were  chiefly  busied  in  recovering 
the  literature  of  antiquity,  and  in  purifying  it  from 
the  corruption  with  which  the  ignorance  or  care- 
lessness of  fifteen  centuries  had  overlaid  it.     The 
process  is  still  going  on ;  but  the  work  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  has  been  mainly  of  another  kind. 
It  has  lain  partly  in  the  interpretation  of  this  liter- 
ature, with  the  object  of  getting  at  the  real  life  and 
thought  of  the  Greeks  and  Eomans  ;  partly  in  the 
collection  of  thousands  upon  thousands  of  inscrip- 
tions, whether   already  published  or  newly  found, 
and  in  the  ordering  of  them  in  such  a  way  as  to 
make  them  easily  available  for  use.     And  though 
in  the  following  chapters  it  will  not  often  be  neces- 
sary to  refer  to  these  vast  collections,  it  may  be 
here  pointed  out  that  of  all  material  for  the  details 
of  the  history  of  the   7roXt9  inscriptions  are   the 
most  valuable.     They  are  the  work  of  the  very  men 
whose  customs,  laws,  or  virtues  they  commemorate, 
and  they  have  not  passed  through  the  perilous  pro- 
cess of  being  worked  up  into  book-history.     And  if 
to  all  this  be  added  the  results  of  the  excavation  of 
the  buildings  and  monuments  of  antiquity,  and  the 
light  thrown  on  much  that  was  once  obscure  by 
the  modern  sciences  of  Comparative  Philology  and 
Anthropology,  we  must  allow  that  never,  since  the 
revival  of  learning,  has  such  a  fair  field  been  open 
to  the  student  of  Greek  and  Eoman  Hfe. 

The  vast  amount  of  detail  is,  in  fact,  apt  to  over- 


20  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

whelm  us.  The  division  of  labour  has  become  so 
complex  that  it  is  rare  to  find  any  scholar  who  has 
a  wide  knowledge  of  antiquity,  or  can  gather  it  up 
in  his  mind  and  reason  on  it  as  a  whole.  We  live 
in  an  age  of  specialisation,  and  it  is  inevitable  that 
it  should  be  so.  But  for  that  very  reason  an  out- 
line of  the  history  of  that  peculiar  form  of  State 
which  was  developed  both  by  Greeks  and  Eomans 
may  possibly  be  neither  unwelcome  nor  unprofitable. 
If  those  who  are  beginning  to  read  Greek  and 
Eoman  history  with  some  serious  purpose  can  have 
their  attention  once  directed  to  the  unity  of  the 
whole  story,  it  is  possible  that  they  may  never 
altogether  lose  themselves  in  detail,  or  forget  the 
true  relation  of  the  whole  to  its  various  parts. 
And  there  is  perhaps  no  better  way  of  thus  widen- 
ing their  powers  of  vision,  and  saving  them  from 
that  short-sightedness  which  is  the  bane  of  all 
workers  in  minute  detail,  than  by  selecting  one 
thread,  and  that  the  strongest  and  most  easy  to 
follow,  and  tracing  it  steadily  throughout  what  we  call 
ancient  history.  For  as  we  follow  the  fortunes  of 
the  TToXt?,  we  shall  be  following  also  the  development 
and  the  decay  of  the  thought  and  the  social  life  of 
the  peoples  whose  political  instincts  it  expressed. 
We  shall  be  following  the  safest  clue,  ^because  in 
the  life  of  the  ttoX^?  was  gathered  up  all  that  was  best 
and  most  fruitful  in  the  civilisation  of  two  wonder- 
ful peoples.  As  it  grew  to  perfection,  their  social 
instincts  and  their  power  of  thought  grew  with  it ;'~ 
as  it  slowly  decayed,  their  literature,  art,  and  philo- 
sophy decayed  too. 


I  INTRODUCTOKY  21 

I  shall  attempt,  then,  on  these  grounds,  educa- 
tional and  other,  to  give  some  account,  however 
meagre,  of  each  phase  of  the  history  of  this  form  of 
State,  from  its  first  appearance  to  its  absorption  in 
the  Eoman  Empire,  passing  in  view  the  several 
forms  it  assumed,  pointing  out  the  chief  causes  of 
its  disintegration,  and  finally  touching  on  the  vast 
new  political  system  which  was  built  not  only  on 
its  ruins,  but  out  of  them,  and  was  thus  the  agent 
in  preserving  for  modern  civilisation  a  great  part,  at 
least,  of  the  fruits  of  ancient  experience. 


CHAPTEE  II 

THE    GENESIS    OF    THE    CITY-STATE 

We  saw  in  the  last  chapter  what  is  the  essential 
difference  between  the  City -State  of  Greek  and 
Eoman  antiquity,  and  the  territorial  State  of  modern 
times.  Neither  Greek  nor  Eoman  could  think  of 
his  State  as  having  an  existence  apart  from  the 
city  in  which  its  business  was  carried  on ;  while  we 
moderns  can  perfectly  well  picture  to  ourselves  a 
France  of  which  Paris  should  be  no  longer  the 
capital,  or  an  Italy  where  the  centre  of  government 
should  be  once  more  shifted  from  Eome  to  Florence 
or  Milan.  Once,  indeed,  in  the  history  of  Athens 
the  Athenian  people  were  forced  to  leave  their  city, 
and  to  take  refuge  in  their  ships  and  in  the  island 
of  Salamis  ;  yet  their  State  continued  to  "exist,  and 
to  exist  at  Athens.  Never  at  any  moment  of  their 
history  did  they  show  more  clearly  their  conviction 
of  the  identity  of  State  and  city.  The  sacred  olive- 
tree  in  the  ErechthaujQi._put  forth  a  fresh  sprout, 
as  they  believed,  but  two  days  after  the  Persians 
had  burnt  the  temple.      The  solemn  procession  of 


«W*.P.  II         rUJ.  ««Kt«IK  ®F  VUt  HITY-STATE  23 

celebrants  passed  from  the  city  to  Eleusis  as  usual, 
and  the  dust  it  raised  was  seen  from  Salamis,  though 
no  living  Athenian  trod  the  sacred  road  that  day.^ 
Though  the  citizens  could  not  fulfil  their  duties  to 
the  State  and  its  gods,  those  duties  were  mysteriously 
performed  for  them,  in  the  proper  place  and  at  the 
proper  time.      Of  all  the  beautiful  myths  to  which 

^  Greek  fancy  gave  birth,  none  was  ever  more  deeply 
rooted  than  this  in  a  solid  conviction, — the   con- 1 
viction  that  the  city,  with  its  population,  divine  and 
human,  was  the  one   essential  fact  in  the  life  of 

"^civilised  men.^ 

Now  it  is  plain  that  the  City- State  and  the 
•modern  State,  differing  in  this  essential  point, 
must  have  come  into  existence  in  different 
ways  ;  that  the  conditions,  the  primary  factors,  out 
of  which  they  grew,  must  have  been  different. 
And  in  order  to  understand  the  nature  and  the 
history  of  either  form  of  State,  it  is  necessary  to 
begin  at  the  beginning,  and  find  out  what  those 
conditions  were,  and  how  the  State  grew  out  of 
them.  To  understand  English  political  history,  it 
is  little  use  beginning  with  the  Great  Charter,  or 
even  at  the  Norman  Conquest ;  we  must  go  back  to 
the  first  fashioning  of  English  institutions  out  of 
elements  present  before  any  real  State  was  there.^ 
This  is  no  new  doctrine  or  method  ;  it  is  as  old  as 

^  Herodotus,  viii.  65. 

-  Cf.  the  pathetic  speech  of  Camillus,  at  the  end  of  Livy's  fifth 
book,  in  opposition  to  the  proposal  to  transfer  the  city  of  Rome  to 
Veii,  where  the  claims  of  the  divine  population  as  well  as  of  the 
human  are  brought  out  with  all  Livy's  rhetorical  skill. 

^  Freeman,  Growth  of  the  English  Constitution,  ch.  i.     Those 


24  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

Aristotle.      He  began  his  treatise  on  the  State  by 
investigating  the  elements  out  of  which  he  believed 
it  to  have  grown ;  and  he  was  right  in  his  method 
and  his  facts.     The  search  for  origins  is  now   so 
favourite  an  occupation   of  the  learned  as  to    be 
occasionally  laughed  at ;  but  it  only  shows  that  we 
live,  like  Aristotle,  in  a  scientific  age,  which  is  not 
content  with  getting  to  know  facts,  but  seeks  to'l  ^ 
obtain  a  better  knowledge  of  them  by  accounting  J  ^ 
for   them.     The   student   of  the   life  of  plants   or 
animals  must  in  these  days  also  learn  their  mor- 
phology,  i.e.  the  beginning  and  growth  of  the  various 
forms  which  they  have  taken  as  species.     And  the 
principle  is  the  same  in  all  sciences,  including  the 
science  of  the  State.     The  reason  for  this  is  very 
simple.     The  conditions  present  at  the  beginning  ^ 
and  during  the  early  stages  of  a  State,  as  of  any      i  , 
species  of  plant  or  animal,  have  deeply  influenced 
the  whole  life  and  nature  of  the  organism.      "  Back 
to  Aristotle  "  has  to  be  said  in  these  days  in  many 
departments  of  knowledge  ;^  for  it  was  he  who  first   ■ 
taught  that  the  object  of  your  study  is  better  un- 
derstood if  you  can  discover  how  it  was  born  and 
how  it  grows.  /  ' 

The  origin  of  the  modern  State  is  a  complicated 
study,  and  of  course  each  individual  State^  has  had 
its  own  peculiar  experiences  in  its  early  days,  and 

who  start  at  a  later  date  are  either  lawyers  like  Professor  Dicey      / 
{Law  of  the  Co7istitution,  p.  14),  or  historians  who  post-date  the  origin 
of  modern  States,  like  M.  Boutmy,  who  considers  that  in  the  seven- 
teenth century  "the  French  nation  was  still  in  embryo  "  {English 
Constitution,  p.  19). 

^  Sir  F.  Pollock,  History  of  the  Science  of  Politics,  p.  124. 


(^)  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  25 

has  gradually  developed  in  its  own  way.  This  is 
more  particularly  the  case  with  England,  which  has 
in  many  ways  been  kept  as  much  apart  from  others 
in  historical  experience  as  in  geographical  position. 
But  the  conditions  out  of  which  modern  States 
have  arisen  have  been,  in  the  main,  alike  in  West- 
ern Europe,  though  the  various  factors  have  had 
very  different  force  and  weight  in  different  in- 
stances. Apart  from  geographical  influences,  and 
the  inherent  peculiarities  of  race,  they  have  been 
chiefly  three.  First,  the  raw  material,  i.e.  the  bar- 
barian people  who  overran  Europe  under  the  later 
Eoman  Empire,  and  dissolved  that  great  political 
fabric :  these  peoples  had  their  own  primitive  insti- 
tutions,— germs  from  some  of  which,  in  England 
at  least,  there  has  been  an  abundant  growth  and 
excellent  fruit.  Secondly,  the  fabric  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  on  which  these  germs  were  engrafted,  the 
idea  of  which  continued  to  exist  as  an  object  of 
reverence  long  after  the  reality  had  vanished,  and 
was  brought  before  men's  minds  once  more  in 
visible  form  by  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  of  Charles 
the  Great  and  his  successors.  Thirdly,  we  have  to 
take  into  account  the  civilising  power  of  Chris- 
tianity in  two  ways :  first,  as  a  moral  force,  better- 
ing rude  institutions ;  and  secondly,  as  a  great 
spiritual  organism,  not  indeed  directly  aiding  the 
development  of  States, — ^on  the  contrary,  rather 
retarding  it,  yet  acting  from  time  to  time  as  a 
salutary  unifying  influence  for  civilisation,  in  ages 
when  States  were  struggling  into  existence  amid 
great  perplexities  and  perils. 


26  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

This  may  be  just  sufficient  to  show  how,  in 
investigating  the  history  of  a  modern  State,  the 
conditions  out  of  which  it  grew  must  be  ascertained 
to  begin  with.  But  how  are  we  to  discover  the 
conditions  out  of  which  the  ancient  City-State  was 
.  formed  ?  How  can  we  know  anything  of  Athens 
and  Eome  before  Athens  or  Eome  came  into  exist- 
ence ?  "We  have  here  no  Gildas,  no  Anglo-Saxon 
chronicle,  nothing  to  answer  to  the  monkish  records 
of  mediaeval  Europe.  We  have  no  contemporary 
literature,  no  inscriptions,  hardly  anything  but  tra- 
ditions and  survivals,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  course 
of  this  chapter.  What  we  can  make  out  is  meagre 
enough,  and  is  arrived  at.  by  no  direct  road  of 
inquiry.  But  this  unknown  country  has  been 
explored  in  the  course  of  the  last  thirty  years  or 
so  by  three  distinct  routes,  and  if  we  follow  these 
we  shall  find  that  the  efforts  of  the  explorers  have 
not  been  altogether  fruitless.  Taking  the  route 
of  the  comparative  method,  as  it  is  called,  we  can 
first  compare  the  institutions  of  various  peoples  who 
have  not  yet  developed  a ,  true  State,  and  so  gain 
some  general  idea  of  the  way  in  which  such  peoples 
live,  and  of  the  conditions  out  of  which  a  State 
may  grow.  Then  we  may  go  on  to  compare  our 
results  with  what  little  we  actually  know^  about  ^the 
Greeks  and  Italians  before  they  reached  the  State'; 
and  thirdly,  we  may  verify  these  results,  by  seeing 
whether  the  elements  out  of  which  we  suppose  the 
City-State  to  have  originated  continued  to  survive 
in  any  shape  after  the  State  was  formed.  Then 
we    shall   be   in   a   position   to    discover   how    the '^^ 


IS 

ir  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  27 

formation     of    the     State     was     actually    brought 
about. 

In  each  of  these  three  steps  we  are  dealing  with 
questions  of  extreme  difficulty,  which  are  still  but 
partially  investigated.  But  only  the  leading  results 
of  the  comparative  method  can  be  indicated  here 
in  outline,  so  far  as  we  have  them  at  present ; 
and  on  these  we  can  depend  with  some  confidence, 
leaving  details  to  be  corrected  as  our  knowledge 
advances. 

Peoples  who  have  not  j&t  reached  the  stage 
of  civilisation  at  which  the  State  begins  are  never 
found  to  be  without  some  kind  of  organisation. 
For  example,  they  have  a  leader  or  chief,  and 
they  reckon  their  descent,  and  their  relationship 
to  each  other,  on  some  sort  of  principle.  We  are 
not  here  concerned  with  the  various  stages  through 
which  man  has  passed  before  reaching  the  State, 
nor  with  the  changes  in  the  idea  of  relationship 
which  he  gradually  developed  in  the  course  of  ages. 
That  is  the  work  of  the  anthropologist,  not  of  the 
historian.  All  we  need  to  ascertain  is  the  nature 
of  the  organisation  which,  in  most  cases  at  least, 
immediately  preceded  that  of  the  State,  and  served 
therefore  as  a  basis  for  it  to  grow  from. 

No  true  State  can  come  into  existence  except  ' 
when  the  people  composing  it  have  been  for  some 
time  settled  down  on  a  definite  territory.  No 
wandering  or  nomad  people  can  make  a  State  in 
our  sense  of  the  word ;  they  must  have  reached  a 
stage  in  which  they  can  live  comfortably  by  certain 
fixed  occupations,  of  which  the  most  important,  for 


28  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

the  supply  of  daily  food,  is  agriculture.      At  some 

time  or  other,  then,  the  people,  tribe,  or  stock  will 

have  taken  possession  of  a  district,  either  driving 

out    an    older    population,    or   amalgamating    with  \ 

them  in  some  way  after  conquest ;  and  having  thus 

j      settled  down,  will    cease  for  a   while   to    undergo 

/      further   important   changes,  tending    rather   to  fix 

^      and  solidify  the  organisation,  which  was  as  it  were 

only  in  solution,  so  long  as  they  were  constantly 

changing  the   conditions  under   which    they   lived. 

*^^The   Greek  and  Latin    stocks,   for   example,  when 

they  wandered  into  the  peninsulas  which  we  know 

them  as  inhabiting,  must  have  settled  down  on  the 

land   in    some   form    of  organisation,   which    grew 

more  and  more  fixed  and  definite  the  longer  they 

remained  without  further  migration.     We  wish  to 

v/  know  what  this  form  was. 

A  vast   amount   of  research  has  of  late   years 

'been  made  and  published  on  this  subject;  and  the 

chief  result  of  it  which  concerns  us  here  has  been 
to  show  (1)  that  before  the  final  settlement  on 
the  land  takes  place,  the  main  stock  is  always 
found  to  consist  of  groups  or  cells,  held  together  . 
by  the  tie  of  Kinship ;  (2)  that  after  the  settle- 
ment has  taken  place,  these  groups  or  cells  are  still 
found,  but  now  fixed  upon  the  land  in  forms  which 
may  roughly  be  described  as  village  communities,  -^ 
\^''' consisting  of  a  number  of  ^  families  united  togot^.^ 

^  The  family,  as  Aristotle  saw,  was  the  ultimate  basis  of  civilised 
society.  But  as  the  subject  of  this  chapter  is  the  Genesis  of  the 
ancient  State,  any  inquiry  into  the  origin  of  the  family  in  pre- 
existing social  forms,   or  its   subsequent  development    into   the: 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  29 

It  is  true  that  they  were  not  always  villages,  in 
our  sense  of  that  word.  The  ancient  Celts  of 
Britain,  for  example,  did  not  live  in  village  groups, 
— a  fact  which  any  one  may  prove  for  himself  by 
travelling  in  Wales  at  the  present  day.  Various 
forms  of  the  group  are  in  fact  found,  and  the 
variation  may  be  due  to  inherent  characteristics  of 
race,  or  to  the  stage  which  civilisation  has  reached 
in  each  case,  or  to  other  circumstances,  such  as 
the  influence  of  a  pre-existing  civilisation  on  the 
invading  people.  But  the  most  perfect  form  of  the 
group  seems  to  be  that  of  the  village  of  kinsmen, 
and  for  want  of  a  more  comprehensive  term  we 
may  speak  of  the  group  in  general  as  the  Village 
Community.^ 

An  excellent  picture  of  the  way  in  which  these 
local  groups  may  be  supposed  to  have  come  into 
existence  is  supplied  by  Sir  Henry  Maine  in  one 
of  his  most  valuable  lectures  on  these  subjects. 
He  quotes  the  words  of  an  Indian  poetess,  describ- 
ing the  immigration  of  a  people  called  the  Vellalee 
into  that  part  of  India  which  was  once  famous  as 
Arcot.  "  The  poetess  compares  the  invasion  to  the 
flowing  of  the  juice  of  the  sugar-cane  over  a  flat 
surface.  The  juice  crystallises,  and  the  crystals  are 
the  various  village  communities.  In  the  middle  is 
one  lump  of  particularly  fine  sugar,  the  place  where 
is  the  temple  of  the  god.  Homely  as  the  image  is, 
it  seems  in  one  respect   peculiarly   felicitous.      It 

group  which  became  the  village  community,  is  not  here  directly 
called  for. 

^  See  Maine,  Early  History  of  Institutions,  p.  78  foil. 


30  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


!  represents  the  tribe,  though  moving  in  a  fused  mass 
of  men,  as  containing  within  itself  a  principle  of 
coalescence  which  began  to  work  as  soon  as  the 
movement  was  over."  ^  We  cannot,  of  course,  be  sure 
that  such  an  image  as  this  would  exactly  represent 
the  way  in  which  Greeks  and  Latins,  or  Celts  and 
Teutons,  settled  down  on  the  land  which  they  con- 
quered ;  for  the  history  of  man,  as  of  plants  and 
animals,  presents  local  variation  everywhere.  But 
I  know  of  no  better  way  of  getting  a  general  idea 
of  what  we  suppose  to  have  happened  at  this 
momentous  era  in  the  progress  of  a  people,  than 
by  laying  to  heart  this  singularly  happy  illus- 
«  tration. 

•  '  What,  then,  were  the  characteristics  of  the 
Village  Community,  using  the  word  in  the  general 
-^  sense  given  above  ?  We  may  recognise  four,  each 
of  which  is  of  importance  in  its  bearing  on  the 
development  of  institutions  in  later  stages  of  civil- 
isation. They  are  gathered  from  examples  of  these 
groups  which  have  been  studied  in  the  life  in  India, 
Eussia,  and  Slavonia ;  and  also  from  survivals, 
in  which  some  one  at  least  of  the  original  features 
can  be  traced,  in  England,  Ireland,  Switzerland, 
^  /      Germany,  and  other  countries. 

-*"^=L  rirst,  as  is  implied  in  what  has  been  said  above, 
the  families  of  which  the  community  consisted  were 
originally  all  akin  to  one  another.  Kinship  was 
v/thfi-  foundation-stone  of  the  society.  That  this 
was  so  in  England  can  still  be  proved,  as  is  well 
known,  from  the  names  of  many  of  our  villages, 

^  Maine,  op.  cit.  p.  71. 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  31 

such  as  Wellington  (the  settlement  of  the  Wellings), 
Watlington,  Wallingford,  etc.  It  was  probably 
the  same  in  India.^  And  though  this  leading  idea 
of  kinship  tends  ever  to  become  fainter  the  longer 
the  group  remains  fixed  on  the  land,  and  thus 
loses  much  of  its  original  binding  force,  it  still 
may  survive  as  a  fiction  firmly  believed  in,  or  at 
least  as  a  bond  of  hrotherhood,  creating  a  sense  of 
mutual  obligation  between  the  members  of  the 
group.  Even  if  it  passes,  as  it  has  passed  in 
Eussia  and  India,  from  a  sense  of  common  descent 
to  a  sense  of  common  interest  only,  it  has  left  a 
legacy  of  feeling  behind  it  which  could  never  have 
been  gained,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  from  any  other 
mode  of  union.  . 

^     Secondly,  the  govei^nment  of  the  group  was  in  the  ^^^ 
hands  of  a  council  consisting  of  the  heads  of  the 
families  constituting  the  group,  sometimes  with  a    y 
headman  to   preside  over  it.     The  evidence    does 
not  seem  to  show  clearly  at  present  whether  the 
council    or  the   headman  is   the   original  form    of 
government,  or  whether  they  both  worked  together 
from  the  beginning.     Sir  H.  Maine  tells  us  ^  that  in 
the  most  perfect  village  communities  in  India,  i.e.  '  ^ 
in  those  which  have  preserved  best  their  original 
form,  it  is  the  council  which  rules ;  and  in  these 
cases  the  other  institution  is  either  not  to  be  found, 
or  only  survives  in  some  form  which  easily  escapes 
recognition.       But    it    is    difficult    to    imagine    a 

1  Green,  Making  of  England,  p.  183  ;  Maine,  Village  Communi- 
ties, p.  175. 

2  lb.  p.  123.     Cf.  Gomme,  The  Village  Community^  p.  26. 


32  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


council  without  some  one  to  call  it  together  ;  and 
we  may  perhaps  assume  that  the  headman  was 
an  original  institution  of  the  group,  which  in  some 
cases  grew  steadily  more  important  as  time  went  on, 
or  even  came  to  supersede  the  council  altogether. 
This  simple  government  doubtless  exercised  a  cus- 
tomary judicial  power,  as  it  does  in  Russia  at  the 
present  day,  and  regulated  the  property  of  the 
community.^ 
^  -'^  Thirdly,  the  lami  from  which  the  group  drew  its 
subsistence,  and  the  cultivation  of  which  was  the 
chief  employment  of  its  members,  was  held  in  com- 
s/  mon  by  all  the  families  of  which  the  group  consisted. 
The  correspondence  in  this  particular  between  village 
communities  in  various  parts  of  the  world  is  most 
striking.  It  might  be  indeed,  and  in  all  probability 
was  most  often  the  case,  that  the  land  thus  held 
by  the  community  was  held  under  a  lord,  i.e.  from 
a  large  owner  of  land,  and  that  some  kind  of  rent 
was  paid  to  him.  The  occupiers  may  even  have 
been  in  a  condition  for  which  we  can  find  no  other 
word  but  serfdom,  though  it  was  perhaps  in  reality 
much  more  favourable  than  any  to  which  that  word 
can  now  be  applied.^  But  whether  they  held  it 
from  another  or  not,  their  tenure  of  it  was  a  common 
tenure,  and  they  used  it  for  the  advantage,  not  of 
individuals,  but  of  the  community.  In  most  existing 
village  communities  the  land,  apart  from  that  on 
which  the  village  stands,  is  divided  into  two  parts — 

1  Wallace,  Russia,  vol.  i.  p.  198. 

2  Fustel  de  Coulanges,  Origin  of  Property  in  La)id   (trans- 
lated by  Mrs.  Ashley),  passim. 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  33 

the  waste  land,  or  pasturage,  which  is  entirely 
common  to  the  families,  each  having  the  right  of 
feeding  so  many  head  of  cattle  on  it ;  and  the  arable 
land,  which  is  divided  up  into  parcels  or  strips,  and 
is  either  redistributed  to  the  various  families  at 
regular  intervals  of  time,  or  has  become  by  degrees 
I  apportioned  to  them  permanently.  Traces  of  this 
system  of  common  pasturage  and  divided  arable 
land  may  still  be  seen  in  the  records  and  maps  of  a 

^     very  large  number  of  English  parishes.^ 

^-*r**-^rourthly,  the  ancient  village  community  had,  we  L 
may  be  quite  sure,  a  ^ommon  w^orship.  Where 
Christianity  has  supervened,  as  in  existing  European 
village  communities,  of  course  very  few  traces  of 
this  can  be  found.  But  the  Indian  poetess  quoted 
by  Sir  H.  Maine  was  no  doubt  representing  a  general 
fact  when  she  spoke  of  the  larger  crystal  in  the 
middle  of  the  group  which  represented  the  temple 
of  the  god.  Whether  that  god  was  in  all  cases  the 
divine  ancestor  from  whom  the  whole  group  believed 
itself  to  be  descended,  it  is  not  possible  to  determine  ; 
but  the  universal  prevalence  in  early  society  of  the 

^  worship  of  ancestors  by  groups  of  kin — a  feature 
which  must  be  passed  over  here — makes  it  probable 
that  this  was  so.  Whatever  the  worship  was,  we  may 
be  certain  that,  as  an  essential  part  of  the  life  of  the 
community,  it  was  shared  by  all  its  members.^ 

—. —  The  four  chief  characteristics  of  the  early  village 
community  are  thus — kinship  of  all  the  members ; 

^  ^  Seebohm,    English    Village   Community,   chaps,    i.    and  iv. 

For    other    examples    see    Laveleye,   Primitive    Property    (Eng. 
trans.),  passim. 

2  Fustel  de  Coulanges,  La  Cit6  antique,  bk.  i. 
D 


34  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

!  government  by  a  council  and  a  headman ;  com- 
!  munity  of  land  ;  and  common  worship.  It  is  ob- 
vious that  a  stage  of  social  life  which  could  realise 
these  characteristics  must  be  considerably  advanced  ; 
we  seem  already  to  see  the  possibility  of  a  further 
advance  into  a  higher  level  of  association.  But 
what  evidence  have  we,  in  the  next  place,  that  the 
Greek  and  Latin  races  had  attained  to  this  stage 
"^  before  the  City-State  arose  among  them  ? 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Greeks  believed 
themselves  to  have  lived  in  villages  before  they 
advanced  to  city  life  ;  and  it  is  equally  certain  that 
in  the  less  highly  civilised  parts  of  Greece,  village 
life  predominated  even  in  historical  times. 

For  the  first  of  these  facts  we  have  the  evidence 
both  of  Thucydides  and  Aristotle,  representing  the 
highest  point,  in  two  successive  centuries,  at  which . 
•Greek  political  thought  had  arrived.  At  the  outset 
of  his  history,  Thucydides  gives  us  a  picture  of  life 
in  Greece  as  he  believed  it  to  have  been  "  in  early 
times  "  (Thucydides,  i.  2,  5  and  6) ;  it  is  no  doubt 
a  fancy  picture,  but  contains  some  elements  of  truth, 
and  is  at  least  a  record  of  what  the  inquiring  Greek 
thought.  He  conceived  of  the  Greeks  as  living 
without  union  or  unifying  influences,  without  enter- 
prise in  commerce  or  agriculture,  without  any  object 
in  life  beyond  that  of  obtaining  the  means  of  sub- 
sistence. Had  he  told  us  nothing  more,  we  might 
fairly  have  guessed  that  this  was  a  description  of 
the  life  of  men  living  in  some  kind  of  village  com- 
munities ;  for  it  accords  precisely  with  what  we 
read  of  those  which  are  still  in  existence,  save  that 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  35 

in  these  agriculture  has  in  most  cases  become  the 
all-absorbing  occupation.^  But  Thucydides  has  told 
us  more  than  this.  Speaking  of  the  prevalence  of 
piracy  in  those  early  times,  and  the  comparative 
respect  in  which  it  was  held,  as  an  adventurous  and 
honourable  trade,  he  says  that  the  pirates'  victims 
lived  in  communities  which  were  unfortified,  and 
consisted  of  one  or  more  villages.  And  this  is 
borne  out_bx^istotle,  who,  reasoning  as  usual  not 
on  fancyLbut__on  facts,  describes  the  village  as  a 
union  of  families,  and  the  city  as  a  union  of  villages  ; 
thus  placing  the  village  midway  between  family  and 
city  in  the  growth  of  society.^ 

For  the  second  fact,  that  village  life  was  preval- 
ent in  the  less  forward  parts  of  Greece  in  historical 
times,  we  have  abundant  and  explicit  evidence. 
Thucydides  describes  it  as  existing  in  ^tolia  in  his 
own  day  ;  the  skilful  Athenian  general  Demosthenes 
founded  his  hopes  of  conquering  ^tolia  on  the 
weakness  and  disunion  of  a  people  still  living  Kara 
KOifMa^  drec'^lo-Tov';.^  The  same  is  implied  of  the 
Ozolian  Locrians,  a  few  chapters  farther  on  ;  and 
from  a  later  authority^  we  learn  that  the  Acar- 
nanians  lived  in  villages,  until  at  the  end  of  the 
fourth  century  B.C.  they  began  to  develop  something 
of  the  nature  of  a  town.  In  the  Peloponnese  the 
Arcadians  had  not  grown  beyond  this  stage  of  social 
life  when  Epaminondas  concentrated  a  number  of 

^  Maine,  Village  Communities,  p.  175  ;  'Mackenzie  Wallace, 
Russia,  vol.  i.  ch.  viii.  For  these  characteristics  of  the  village 
stage  of  society  see  also  below,  ch.  iii.  p.  60. 

2  Politics,  i.  2  ;  1252  B.  »  xhuc.  iii.  94,  97  ;  cf.  101. 

*  Diodorus,  19,  67. 


36  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


/ 


villages  into  his  new  Great  City  (Megalopolis),  des- 
tined to  overawe  Sparta.  And  lastly,  Sparta  itself 
was  a  city  made  up  of  villages,  and  so  were  Elis, 
Mantinea,  Tegea,  and  many  others  ;  in  the  case  of 
Sparta,  owing  to  the  distance  from  the  sea,  and  the 
military  strength  of  the  situation,  the  constituent 
villages  were  never  even  fortified  by  an  enclosing 

ring-wall. 

Turning   to    Italy,   we   find  village  settlements 

/  there  also,  and  we  have  little  doubt  that  they  formed, 
in  some  cases  at  least,  among  which  that  of  Eome 
must  be  reckoned,  the  constituent  elements  of  towns. 
The  Latin  words  for  this  kind  of  community  are  vicus 
and  jpagus ;  and  though  we  do  not  know  precisely 
what  their  original  meaning  was,  the  words  were 
always  used  to  denote  a  smaller  social  unit  than  a 
civitas  or  state.  The  word  pagus  fell  out  of  use.  in 
Italy,  but  was  used  by  Caesar  for  the  subdivisions 
of  Gallic  civitates,  i.e.  the  Celtic  sept ;  vicus  con- 
tinued to  be  used  for  a  hamlet  in  the  country, 
together  with  other  words  (fora,  conciliabula)  which 
probably  denote  growths  of  a  later  time. 

J  There  is  yet  another  set  of  facts  to  be  mentioned, 
which  will  go  some  way  towards  strengthening  our 
argument  that  the  City- State  was  formed  out  of  an 
(  association  of  village  communities.  It  is  as  well, 
however,  to  point  out  that  we  shall  here  be  using  a 
method  to  which  we  are  frequently  driven  in  ancient 
history  for  want  of  a  better — the  method,  as  we  may 
call  it,  of  survivals,  by  which  we  argue  back  from 
^the  nature  of  institutions  in  later  times,  of  which  we 
know  something,  to  their  probable  originals  or  early 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE      •  37 

history,  of  which  we  know  nothing  directly.  For 
example,  if  we  can  discover  survivals  of  the  life  of 
village  communities  in  the  completed  City-State  of 
later  times,  we  may  argue  back  from  what  we  know 
of  these  to  the  features  of  the  original  village  life 
before  the  city  arose.  From  this  method  we  cannot 
expect  more  than  an  approximation  to  the  truth, 
and  it  needs  skilful  handling  ;  but  the  same  may  be 
said,  with  even  greater  force,  of  reasoning  based 
only  on  the  statements  of  ancient  authors. 

It  would  be  indeed  strange,  on  the  supposition 
of  which  we  have  already  obtained   some  proof — 
that  cities  were  formed  in  most  cases  out  of  village 
settlements — if  those  settlements  did  not  continue 
to  exist  in  some  form  after  the  city  was  full-grown  ;  u 
just  as  the  constituent  parts  of  the  caterpillar  con-  \ 
tinue  in  other  forms  in  the  chrysalis  and  even  in  I 
the  fully  developed  insect.     And,  in  fact,  the  early 
City-State,  wherever  we  have  anything  like  a  full 
knowledge   of  it,  invariably  appears  as   subdivided 
into  smaller  groups,  which  look  as  if  they  had  some    . 
historical  relation  to  the  original  settlements  out  of 
wdiich  the  city  was  formed.     These  are  the  yevTj 
of  Athens,  the  gentes  of  Eome ;  all  of  them  being,  , 
like  the  village  community,  groups  consisting  of  a  ! 
certain    number   of   families.     We   have   strong  a 
priori  reasons  for  believing  these  to  be  the  lineal 
descendants  of  the  original  village  communities,  just 
as  our  English  parishes  of  to-day  are  directly  de- 
scended from  the  "  hams  "  and  "  tuns  "  (i,e.  village 
settlements)    of   our    immigrant    forefathers.     We 
have  also  reason  to  believe  that  Aristotle  thought 


38  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

these  subdivisions  of  the  city  to  be  the  same  in 
origin  with  the  village  community ;  for  he  speaks  of 
the  inhabitants  of  a  Kcofjur]  as  being  o/noyaXaKre^,^ 
a  word  which  we  know  was  later  applied  to  the 
members  proper  of  an  Athenian  761^09 ;  and  in 
another  passage  he  uses  the  words  in  almost  the 
same  sense,  or  with  a  distinction  which  is  not  ob- 
vious to  us.  "A  city,"  he  says,  "is  a  union  of  yevj]  sjj/^ 
and  Kctifiau  for  a  perfect  and  sufficient  life."  ^  "^ 

What  was  the  nature  of  these  gentes  and  761/7; 
as  subdivisions  of  the  population  of  a  city  ?  How 
far  do  they  show  any  of  those  characteristics  which 
we  find  in  the  village  community  ?  Let  us  notice 
to  begin  with  that  they  were  not  political  divisions, 
either  at  Athens  or  Eome  ;  and  if  we  knew  anything 
of  them  as  they  existed  in  other  States,  we  should 
probably  find  the  same  to  hold  good  everywhere. 
And  this  means,  that  they  were  not  associations 
which  had  been  created  after  the  City-State  came 
into  existence,  with  the  object  of  helping  it  to  per- 
form its  work  as  a  political  corporation,  in  matters 
of  taxation  or  administration ;  they  were  strictly 
private  associations  within  the  State,  and  we  can 
conceive  of  no  reason  why  they  should  have  grown 
up  after  the  beginning  of  the  State,  nor  have  we  any 
historical  trace  of  such  an  origin  for  them.^     With 

^  Pol.  i.  2,  6  ;  1252  B.  The  meaning  of  this  word  is  open  to 
doubt.  It  may  be  taken  as  "suckled  with  the  same  milk,"  or 
"offering  a  common  libation."  Mr.  Newman  does  not  notice  the 
latter  interpretation. 

2  Politics,  iii.  10,  14 ;  cf.  sec.  12  ;  1280  B  and  1281  A. 

3  Both  Greeks  and  Romans  attributed  them  to  a  legislator, 
after  the  birth  of  the  State ;  but  this  was  simply  because  they 
could  not  account  for  them  in  any  other  way. 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  39 

the  true  political  divisions  of  the  State,  the  Trittyes 
and  Naukraries  of  Athens  (and  later  the  Demes), 
and   the  local   tribes   and  centurice  of  Eome,  the 
gentes   and    rs^evq    stand   in   most   marked    contrast. 
We  can  have  little  doubt  that  they  were  survivals 
from  the  forms  of  social  life   which  preceded  the 
State  ;  ^  and  we  find  in  them  traces  of  the  same 
characteristics  which  we  found  in  the  village  com- 
munity.    On  these  we  can  only  touch  very  briefly. 
Nothing   can    be    more   certain    than   that   the 
members  of  both  yevrj  and  gentes  believed  themselves   . 
to  be  descended  from  a  common  ancestor,  and  there- 
fore to  be  of  one  blood.     The  very  names  make  this 
at  once  obvious,  for  both  are  derived  from  a  root  sig  j 
nifying  birth,  and  are  related  to  our  own  word  Kin. 
In  Eome  all  members  of  a  gens  bore  the  same  name  \ 
(Claudii,    Cornelii,   etc.) ;  and  both   at   Eome    and   ' 
Athens  they  had  their  common  religious  worship,  i 
and  also  in  many  cases  the  exclusive  right  to  fill 
the  priesthood  of  some  important  deity.     Thus  at 
Athens  the  gens  of  the  Butad?e  held  the  two  great 
priesthoods    of   Athene    Polias    and     of    Poseidon 
[^  Erectheus ;    and    we    may  remember    the   Eoman 
story  of  Fabius  Cunctator,  who  left  his  command 
— with  great  peril,  as  it  turned  out,  to  the  army — 
in  the  hands  of  his  Master  of  the  Horse,  in  order 
to  return  to  Eome  and  celebrate   the  rites  of  his 

^  See  Schol.  on  Hesiod,  Works  and  Days,  v.  495  (quoted  by 
Kuhn,  Entstehung,  p,  163),  where  360  X^trxat  are  spoken  of  in 
Athens,  which  may  have  been  the  original  form  of  the  later  360 
yivf).  Such  conjectures  are,  however,  quite  uncertain,  and  add 
little  or  nothing  to  the  argument. 


40  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

gens.  At  Athens,  again,  we  may  see  a  trace  of 
the  government  of  the  village  community  surviving 
in  the  ap-x^cov  rod  yevov<;,  or  head  of  the  gens,  who 
was  at  the  same  time  its  chief  priest.  And  as  re- 
gards the  common  tenure  of  land,  though  we  have 
no  evidence  from  Athens,  we  haA^e  strong  reason  to 
believe  that  even  this  characteristic  of  the  village 
community  survived  for  a  considerable  time  in  the 
Eoman  gens ;  but  the  evidence  for  this  view, 
which  has  been  brought  together  by  Mommsen,  is 
_too.  complicated  to  be  inserted  here.^ 
'  ^  We  see  then  that  the  two  leading  ideas  of  the 
village  community,  those  of  kinship  by  blood  (real 
or  assumed)  and  of  a  common  worship,  are  also 
found  in  the  gentes  of  Eome  and  Athens ;  and 
further,  that  there  is  some  ground  for  belie\dng 
that  the  form  of  government  and  the  method  of 
land-tenure  were  originally  the  same  both  in  gens 
and  village.  And  as  we  can  discover  no  other 
t  origin  for  the  gentes  and  yevrj,  we  are  justified  in 
concluding  that  they  are  really  survivals  of  associa- 
tions which  existed  before  the  State  came  into 
existence,  i.e.  of  some  form  of  village  community. 
They  survived  into  the  life  of  the  State,  and  even 
to  the  very  end  of  it,,  because  the  ties  of  kinship 
and  religion  could  not  be  dissolved  among  them, 
and    were    strong    enough   to    hold     them     firmly 

^  For  the  ^pxajv  rod  yivovs  see  the  new  edition  of  Smith's  Dic- 
tionary of  Antiquities,  i.  906  ;  and  for  the  common  cultivation  of 
land  by  Roman  gentes,  Mommsen,  Hist,  of  Rome,  i.  193  ;  Lave- 
leye,  Primitive  Property,  p.  164  foil.,  criticised  by  F.  de  Cou- 
langes,  op.  cit.  p.  100  foil. 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  41 

together  under  the  new  order  of  thhags ;  and 
they  remain,  as  we  shall  see,  as  a  powerful  con- 
servative influence,  holding  back  the  State  from  a 
too  rapid  development  as  a  new  organism,  and,  as  it 
were,  keeping  it  continually  in  mind  of  the  rock 
from  which  it  had  been  hewn.^  y^ 

We  have  been  following  three  lines  of  reasoning,  V 
and  have  arrived  at  the  results  of  three  kinds  of  [ 
evidence,^ — the   nature  of  village    communities   in 
general;  ithe   existence    of  village  communities   in 
Greece  and  Italy,  both  in  the  earliest  times  and  ' 
after  the  State  arose ;  and  the  apparent  remains  of 
such  communities,  surviving  in  the  State  itself  long 
after  it  had  reached  maturity  ;  and  the  conclusion  is 
irresistible  that  the  State  itself  was  formed  out  of 
material  the  original  units  of  which  were  communi-  ly^ 
ties  of  this  kind.     The  rest  of  this  chapter  must  be 
occupied  with  some  attempt   to  answer  the  other 
question    proposed   at   the   outset,   how   the    State  ,^^^ 
came   to  be  built  up  out  of  this  material.     How 
could  these  little  groups,  so  sharply  separated  from 
each  other  in  all  the  interests  of  human  life,  come 
to  be  united  into  one  corporation,  owning,  as  we 
saw  that  a  State  must,  one  government,  one  law, 
one  worship,  capable  of  united  action,  and  suscept-  t 
ible   to  the  impulses  of  a  common   patriotic  feel-  | 
ing  ?     The  problem  was  a  more  difficult  one  than 

^  In  the  above  account  of  the  gei\ies  and  7^1/77,  nothing  has  been 
said  of  the  larger  groups  in  which  these  were  distributed — ^^the 
Phratries  and  tribes  of  Athens,  and  the  Curise  and  original  tribes 
of  Rome.  The  origin  of  these  is  far  more  obscure,  and  bears  less 
directly  on  the  subject  of  this  chapter. 


r, 


42  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 


we  can  well  realise,  and  the  process  was  doubtless 
\^      a  much  longer  one  than  historians  have  represented 
\     it.      We  can  only  see  a  bare  outline  of  the  truth ; 
in  no  single  case  of  real  antiquity  can  the  details 
be  recovered.  ^,.^s._ 

Let  us  first  consider  what  motives  or  circum- 
stances may  have  suggested  such  a  union  of  these 
small  groups  into  larger  ones.  ^ 

I  have    said   that   before    a   wandering    people 
settles  down  on  a  particular  territory,  it   already 
J  contains  a  number  of  cells  held  together  by  the  tie 

i  /  (lof  kinship.  After  the  settlement,  this  tie  continues 
10  act  as  a  bond;  but  from  that  time  onwards  a 
new  binding  principle  begins  to  make  itself  felt, 
and  by  slow   degrees   takes  the  place   of  kinship. 

(This  new  tie  is  the  influence  of  the  land  on  which 
the  community  is  settled.  Kinship  is  a  bond  which  / 
must  sooner  or  later  be  relaxed  and  fail;  it  canlj 
only  be  kept  up  by  ingenious  fictions,  and  in  most  I 
existing  village  communities  it  has  long  ago  dis- 
appeared. But  when  once  a  permanent  settlement  \ 
,  has  been  made  on  a  tract  of  land,  the  land  becomes 

^  a  liome ;  it  is  taken  to  the  heart  of  the  people  who 

live  on  it  and  by  it,  and  they  hold  together  for  love 
of  it,  long  after  the  idea  of  actual  kinship  has  grown 
weak  or  utterly  vanished.  History  teems  with 
examples  of  this  change.  We  can  see  it  in  many 
of  our  own  English  villages,  which  once  were  the 
hams  or  tuns  of  invading  Teutonic  kinsfolk,  and 
now,  though  still  bearing  their  kin  name,  have 
entirely  lost  the  binding  power  of  kinship,  yet 
exercise  over  their  inhabitants  a  certain  unifying 


^-t-.^ 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE     ■'  '  43 

spell,  as  the  places  where  they  and  their  forefathers 
have  lived  and  toiled.^ 

But  this  influence  of  the  land  is  never  so  power- 
ful as  that  of  kinship,  and  it  acts  in  a  different  way. 
The  tie  of  blood  is  strong  in  small  groups,  but  m\ 

1  cannot  create  large  ones  or  hold  them  together ;  the 
larger  the  group  of  kin  becomes,  the  fainter  and 
more  fictitious  will  be  the  bond  of  relationship. 
But  here  comes  in  the  influence  of  the  land,  and 
carries  on  the  work  which  the  other  had  begun. 
There  are  not  likely  to  be  natural  geographical 
boundaries  between  the  lands  of  adjacent  villages, 
— no  such  stern  natural  limits  as  between  the  kin 
by  blood  of  one  set  of  villagers  and  another.  When  ^^^^ 
once  the  blood-tie  has  grown  fainter,  there  is  no 
serious  obstacle  "to  the  union  of  villages  and  their 
lands  in  a  larger  whole,  if  there  be  obvious  advan- 
tage to  be  gained  by  it,  or  if  a  strong  hand  urges  or  k^ 
forces  on  the  process.  And  this  process  may  go  on, 
gradually  or  by  le^aps,  until  some  natural  boundary 
is  reached,  such  as  the  sea  and  the  mountain  barriers 
which  enclose  Attica  or  Latium,  or  the  Ehine  and 
the  Alps,  beyond  which  the  Swiss  have  hardly,  and 
at  their  peril,  succeeded  in  extending  their  confedera- 
tion. Then  the  land  may  eventually  become  ^father-  Y 
land,  and  acquire  a  marvellous  binding  force  over 
men's  minds,  as  it  has  in  Ireland  and  Switzerland, 
and  more  or  less  in  all  modern  States. 

If  the  union  of  villages  was  thus  made  more   \ 
possible,  as  the  idea  of  the  land  took  the  place  of 
the  idea  of  kinship,  what  may  we  suppose  were  the 

1  See  Maine,  Early  Institutions,  p.  72  foil. 


44  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


motives  which  actually  prompted  union,  or  what 
circumstances  suggested  it  ?  We  may  discern 
two,  with  which  we  must  be  here  content  — 
(1)  the  necessities  of  self-defence ;  (2)  the  renown 
of  some  prominent  centre  of  religious  worship. 
The  two  might  act  together  in  many  instances, 
but  we  must  deal  with  each  separately  and  very 
1  briefly. 

It  is  an  almost  self-evident  proposition  that 
village  communities  would  stand  in  need  of  defence 
from  enemies,  whether  neighbours  or  pirates.  Thu- 
cydides,  in  the  passages  already  quoted,  has  pictured 
their  weakness  as  he  conceived  it ;  and  with  his 
account  it  is  interesting  to  compare  those  of  modern 
travellers,  e.g.  that  of  Mr.  A.  E.  Wallace,  who,  in 
his  Malay  Archipelago,  has  described  the  dangers 
to  which  the  unprotected  villagers  are  liable  in  the 
islands  of  that  group.^  At  a  very  early  period,  we 
may  suppose,  these  little  units  felt  the  first  influ- 
ences of  a  purpose  which  began  to  agglutinate  them 
together.  Several  would  unite  for  the  possession  of 
va  hill  or  vantage-ground  of  refuge,  which  they  would 
'  fortify,  and  to  which  they  could  retreat  from  danger. 
Such  fortified  hills  are  found  in  every  country,  in- 
cluding our  own.  In  Italy  the  stronghold  was 
I  known  as  urbs,  or  oppidum,  or  arx;  and  in  Greece 
as  TTToXt?,  or  itoXl^?      Here,  then,  we  come  upon 

^  Malay  Archipelago,  p.  341,  ed.  1886. 

2  Schomann,  Antiquities  of  Greece  (Eng,  trans.),  pp.  121,  123. 
At  p.  QQ,  speaking  of  the  Homeric  Tr6\Ls,  Schomann  points  out 
that  the  TroXts  of  Homer  was  not  always  a  fortified  place.  Probably 
the  word  was  acquiring  its  later  sense  when  the  Homeric  poems 
were  composed. 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  45 

the  first  meaning  of  the  word  which  has  become  so 
famous  in  the  world's  history.     The  citadel,  as  a      /^ 
centre-point  of  union,  gradually  gathers  round  it  a 
city.     A  few  famous  examples  are  the   Acropolis 
of  Athens,  the  Cadmea  of  Thebes,  the  strongholds 
of  Alba  and  Tusculum,  the  Palatine,  and  later  th^^-^ 
Capitoline  hill  at  Eome.      But  any  traveller  with     ' 
an  observant  eye  may  verify  the  process  for  him- 
self in  England,  France,  Italy,  or  Greece.  ^ — \     i  i 

Together  with  this  motive,  the  preservation  of  \    ' 
themselves   and  their  property;  the  primitive "  vil-  , 
lagers  doubtless  felt  the  infTuehce  of  another,  which 
they  perhaps  hardly  realised  as  distinct  from  the      j 
first.      Every   community  had    its   worship,  as   we 
have   seen ;    every  tribe   or  State  had   its   deities, 
brought  with  it  in  its  wanderings  from  its  original       A 
home.     The   gods   of  the  race  were  its  guardians,  \ 
for  the  essence  of  the  idea  of^a  deity  lies  in  the 
fact  that  man  looks  to  an  invisible  Power  for  aid 
in  adversity,   as    he   also  expects    punishment  for 
neglect  and  sin.       The  desire  to  protect  the  pro-  // 
J^of7  to  Keep  the  guardian  from  passing  over  to 
the  enemy  as  a  consequence  of  neglect,  to  prevent 
his  holy  place  from  falling  into  strange  hands,  was 
beyond  doubt  in  part  what  led  our  forefathers  so 
often  to  fix  the  site  of  their  worships  on  hills  and 
isolated   rocks.     They   would    gain    protection    for 
their  gods  in  this  way,  and  would  also  gain  a  double 
advantage  for  themselves — the  aid  of  the  gods  who 
were  necessary  to  their  welfare,  and  the  aid  of  the 
"  rock-built  refuge "  behind  which  they  would  be 
secure.     And  thus  it  would  come  about  that  the  V 


46  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

fame  of  some  holy  place,  where  a  deity  was  wor- 
shipped whose  protecting  power  was  notorious, 
would  assist  in  the  union  of  village  communities. 
"  The  forming,"  says  Duncker,^  "  of  the  agricultural 
communities  around  the  Cecropia  {i.e.  the  later 
Acropolis)  under  the  protection  of  Athena,  around 
Eleusis  under  the  protection  of  Demeter,  and  the 
community  of  shepherds  in  the  South  under  the 
protection  of  Pallas,  is  the  oldest  known  fact  in 
Attic  history."  And  indeed,  wherever  we  turn  in 
Greek  or  Italian  history,  we  find  that  all  unions  of 
communities,  small  and  great,  are  invariably  held 
together  by  the  bond  of  a  common  worship,  a  special 
devotion  to  some"  protecting  deity,  or  combination  of 
deities.  For,  as  De  Coulanges  has  well  said,  it  is  \ 
I  only  a  helief  which  could  overcome  the  immense 
I  difficulty  which  men  felt  in  giving  up  old  habits 
and  small  liberties  for  the  restrictions  and  discipline 
of  a  more  highly-organised  life  ;  a  belief,  we  may , 
add,  not  destitute  of  reason,  but  based  on  the  actual  j 
necessities  of  life,  which  themselves  suggested  union,  \ 
while  religion  made  it  practicable.  t 

Before  we  turn  to  examine  one  or  two  examples 
of  this  process  of  union,  one  question  seems  to  call 
for  such  an  answer  as  we  may  be  able  to  find  for  it. 
"ave  we  any  evidence  which  will  enable  us  to  fix 
I  with  any  kind  of  certainty  the  period  during  which 
1  the  City-State  came  into  existence  ?  As  regards 
Italy,  it  may  be  said  at  once  that  we  have  no  such 
evidence.      The  traditional  date  of  the  foundation 

^  History  of  Greece,  Eng.  trans,   i.  113.      Cf.   De   Coulanges, 
La  Cite  antique^  ed.  ii.  p.  145. 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  47 

of  Eome  (753  B.C.)  has  no  historical  value  ;  we  y* 
know  on  archaeological  evidence  that  there  must 
have  been  settlements  on  the  site  of  Eome  long 
before  that  date,  but  when  Eome  began  its  hfe  as  a 
City-State  we  can  hardly  even  guess.  With  regard 
to  Greece  we  are  in  a  somewhat  better  position. 
There  archaeological  evidence,  though  it  is  still  suh 
judice,  has  accumulated  with  astonishing  rapidity  of 
late  years  ;  and  the  fruitful  discoveries  of  Dr.  Schlie- 
mann  can  be  compared  with  the  pictures  of  social 
and  political  life  preserved  in  the  Homeric  poems. 
The  result  of  this  comparison,  in  spite  of  endless 
differences  of  learned  opinion,  both  as  to  the  archaeo- 
logical evidence  itself  and  as  to  the  relative  age  and 
value  of  various  parts  of  the  poems,  can  now  be 
presented  in  a  tolerably  certain  form.  We  now 
feel  comparatively  sure  that  there  was  a  civilisation 
in  Greece  before  that  of  the  vroXt?,  and  out  of  the 
ruins  of  which  the  vroXt?  probably  grew ;  and  that 
this  civilisation,  which  may  be  called  Achaean,  and 
which  is  represented  in  Homer  by  the  great  kings 
of  Mycenae  and  Sparta,  came  to  an  end  somewhere 
about  tlie_^ar.  1000  B.C.,  and  perhaps  under  stress 
of  a  toorian  1  invasion  from  the  north.  It  is  after  , 
that  da£e~  that  we  may  discern  the  beginnings  of 
that  later  civilisation  with  which  we  are  solely  con- 
cerned. "  There  is  a  broad  line  dividing  mythical 
from  political  Hellas,  which  seems  to  coincide  with 
the  great  break  made  in  the  continuity  of  Hellas 
by  the  Dorian  invasion.  ...  On  the  more  recent 
side  of  that  line  we  see  vigorous  communities, 
choosing  their  own  governments,  carrying  on  trade 


48  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

with  all  parts  of  the  Mediterranean  and  Euxine. 
.  .  .  On  the  older  side  we  see  the  castles  of  mag- 
nificent princes  standing  among  the  huts  of  their 
dependants."  ^ 

With  this  older  civilisation  we  have  here  nothing 
to  do.  It  is  not  the  civilisation  of  the  City-State, 
which  only  began  after  the  race  of  Agamemnon  had 
disappeared  from  Greece,  approximately  in  the  tenth 
and  ninth  centuries  B.C.  Great  indeed  is  the  dark- 
ness that  lies  around  the  origin  of  this  later  wonder- 
ful civilisation,  which  made  Greece  all  that  it  is  for 
us.  But  one  City-State,  and  that  the  most  famous 
"^  of  all,  preserved  a  tradition  of  its  origin  so  lively 
and  so  reasonable,  that  we  can  rely  upon  it  as  re- 
presenting in  outline  at  least  what  actually  took 
.y place  in  that  instance.^ 

About  the  ^^ynoikismos  j  or  political  union  of 
Attica  a  great  deal  lias  of  late  years  been  written, 
biit  our  ideas  of  it  are  still  based  chiefly  on  the 
account  of  Thucydides,  which  we  may  conveniently 
quote  in  full.  It  represents  the  traditional  ideas 
of  the  Athenian,  divested  of  much  mythical  setting, 
and  attested  by  what  we  should  call  scientific 
reasoning.      He  says  (ii.  15): — 

^  -^  /'  In  the  days  of  Cecrops  and  the  first  kings,  down  to  the 

3 -'reign  of  Theseus,  Athens  was  divided  into  communes,  having 

their  own  town-halls  and  magistrates.  Except  in  case  of 
alarm  the  whole  people  did  not  assemble  in  council  under 
the  king,  but  administered  their  own  affairs,  and  advised 

^  Gardner,  New  Chapters  in  Greek  History,  p.  97. 
2  For  prehistoric  Athens,  references  to  modern  researches  will 
be  found  quoted  in  Holm's  Geschichte  Griedienlands,  i.  477. 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  49 

togetlier  in  their  several  townships.  Some  of  them  at  times 
even  went  to  war  with  him,  as  the  Eleusinians  under 
Eumolpus  with  Erechtheus.  But  when  Theseus  came  to 
the  throne,  he,  being  a  powerful  as  well  as  a  wise  ruler, 
among  other  improvements  in  the  administration  of  the 
country,  dissolved  the  councils  and  separate  governments, 
and  united  all  the  inhabitants  of  Attica  in  the  present  city, 
establishing  one  council  and  town  hall.  They  continued  to 
live  on  their  own  lands,  but  he  compelled  them  to  resort  to 
Athens  as  their  metropolis,  and  liehcefor ward  they  were  all 
inscribed  on  the  roll  of  her  citizens.  A  great  city  thus  arose 
which  was  handed  down  by  Theseus  to  his  descendants,  and 
from  his  day  to  this  the  Athenians  have  regularly  celebrated 
the  national  festival  of  the  Synoikia,  or  union  of  the  com- 
munes, in  honour  of  the  Goddess  Athene."  ^ 

The  net  historical  result  of  this  passage,  and  of 
the  corresponding  one  of  Plutarch,  is  that  at  an 
early  date  the  village  communities  of  Attica,  already 
perhaps  grouped  together  here  and  there  for  mutual 
aid  or  worship,^  and  looking  to  the  kings  of  the 
Acropolis  for  aid  in  serious  danger,  were  induced 'to 
give  up  their  local  self-government,  and  the  worships 
with  which  it  was  connected,  and  to  own  one  govern- 
ment only,  of  which  the  seat  was  Athens.  They 
did  not  migrate  thither  in  a  body — that  would  have 
been  to  leave  their  lands  untilled.  Many  indeed  of 
the  noble  families  may  have  removed  to  the  new 
centre,  glad  of  the  prospect  of  concentrating  aristo- 

1  Jowett,  TMccydides,  vol.  i.  104.    Cf.  Plutarch,  Theseus,  24,  32. 

-  Thucydides  uses  the  word  7r6Xts  ;  perhaps  indicating  a  stage 
of  union  midway  between  the  KibfiTj  and  the  true  City-State.  We 
know  of  at  least  one  previous  agglutination,  that  of  the  tetrapolis 
of  Marathon,  and  we  have  traces  of  others.  See  Kuhn,  Entstehung 
der  Stddte  der  AUen,  p.  48  foil.  See  also  Beloch,  Storia  Greca, 
pp.  11,  114. 

E 


50  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

cratic  strength  ;^  but  Attica,  which  is  about  the 
size  of  Kent,  was  too  large  for  a  general  change  of 
such  a  kind ;  and  the  consequence  was  that  an 
entirely  new  kind  of  community  was  formed,  the 
heart  and  life  of  which  was  in  the  TroXt?  par  ex- 
cellence—  the  city  on  and  around  the  Cecropian 
rock, — while  all  the  smaller  units  counted  this 
centre  as  their  own,  and  gradually  came  to  consider 
it  as  the  visible  expression  of  their  united  life  and 
strength.     Who  was  the  real  author  of  this  great 

^  work  we  do  not  know ;  and  it  is  no  more  than 
conjecture  if  we  interpret  the  legend  of  Theseus  as 
indicating  an  invasion  from  the  Peloponnese  which 
brought  it  about  by  force.  ^  It  seems  more  likely 
to  have  been  due  to  the  hand  of  a  strong  master 
than  to  a  common  agreement  of  communities.  But 
however  it  came  about,  it  laid  the  foundation-stone 
of  Athenian  greatness,  and  changed  Attica  into  the 
City-State  of  Athens,  the  first  and  the  most  perfect 
in  Hellas — a  destiny  to  which  her  fortunate  geo- 

\    graphical  conditions  seem  naturally  to  point.  ^ 

This,  then,  is  the  most  famous  example  of  the 
birth  of  a  Greek  City-State,  and  of  all  prehistoric 
foundations  it  is  the  best  attested.  It  would  be  a 
mistake,  however,  to  suppose  that  many  other  Greek 
cities  owed  their  origin  to  circumstances  of  exactly 
the  same  kind.  There  was  beyond  doubt  local 
variation   everywhere — variation  arising  from  the 

^  Plutarch,  I.e. ;  Kulm,  Entstehung  der  Stddte  der  Alien,  p.  167 
foil. 

2  Abbott,  History  of  Greece,  i.  281  and  note  ;  Gilbert,  i.  107. 
^  Holm,  op.  cit.  i.  455. 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  51 

dispositioji  of  the  people,  the  nature  of  their  laijd, 
the  forc^  brought  to  bear  on  them,  or  the  objects 
to  be  gained  by  union.  In  one  or  two  cases  such 
as  that  of  Elis,  where  the  "  synoikismos  "  did  not  .  , 
take  place  till  after  the  Persian  wars,  we  have  M^^ 
traces  of  a  form  of  union  closely  resembling  that 
of  Attica.-^  But  in  many  others,  where  the  ter- 
ritory was  smaller,  the  inhabitants  of  the  pre-exist- 
ing villages  or  groups  of  villages  seem  to  have  been 
actually  transferred  to  the  new  city.  For  example, 
the  two  Arcadian  towns  of  Tegea  and  Mantinea, 
which  lay  at  the  southern  and  northern  ends  of  a 
single  long,  flat  plain  among  the  hills,  were  made 
up  of  communities  which  probably  ceased  to  exist 
when  once  the  city  had  been  formed ;  for  the 
territory  on  which  the  two  towns  subsisted  was  all 
of  it  within  easy  reach  of  the  walls,  and  could  be 
cultivated  by  the  inhabitants  without  residing  in 
the  country.^  It  is  possible  that  the  City-State  of 
Argos  came  into  existence  as  such  in  the  same  way, 
though  her  territory  was  much  larger.  But  the 
most  famous  instance  of  this  kind  of  union — the 
one  of  which  we  know  by  far  the  most — is  that  of 
Megalopolis,  the  great  city  built  in  B.C.  370  under 
the  auspices  of  Epaminondas,  to  overawe  Sparta. 
It  is  true  that  it, was  rather  an  artificial  than  a 
natural  union,  born  as  it  were  out  of  due  time  ; 
but  it  shows  plainly  the  way  in  which  the  Greeks 
would  naturally  go  to  work  when  a  city  had  to  be 
created  out  of  disconnected  units  which  were  in  no 
true  sense  of  the  word  a  State.     Forty-one  town- 

1  Strabo,  pp.  336,  340.  2  75^  p,  337, 


52  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


ships,  or,  as  we  may  imagine  them,  village  com- 
munities of  various  sizes  and  growth,^  had  their 
population  transferred  to  that  imposing  stronghold 
which  has  lately  been  in  part  excavated  by  members 
of  the  British  school  at  Athens.  The  foundation 
answered  its  purpose,  and  Q\legalopolis  was  destined 
to  play  a  great  part  in  the  last  struggles  of  the 
Greeks  for  liberty ;  but  the  forcible  method  used 
was  perhaps  hardly  well  suited  to  the  conditions 
of  the  considerable  territory  which  was  laid  under 
contribution,  for  we  know  that  the  land  became 
eventually  depopulated,  and  thereby  deprived  of  its 
natural  strength.  ^  In  a  Greek  City-State,  city  and 
land  must  be  one  whole,  admitting  of  no  dispro- 
portion or  division  of  natural  interest. 

If  we  turn  to  Italy  we  find  our  knowledge  of  the 
I  genesis  of  the  City-State  even  more  scanty ;  and  of 
the  beginnings  of  any  other  Italian  city  than  Eome 
we  may  be  said  to  know  nothing  at  all.  It  has 
been  already  said  that  the  earliest  inhabitants  lived 
in  small  communities  (vici  and  pagi)  within  reach 
of  a  fortified  place  of  vantage  and  refuge,  which 
probably  also  served  as  a  centre  both  for  worship 
and  traffic.  Each  ring-wall,  or  citadel  (arx,  urhs, 
oppidum),  was  common,  so  far  as  we  can  discover,  to 
several  village  communities,  and  was  the  object  of 
special  religious  observance  and  care,  both  in  its 
foundation  and  its  maintenance, — a"  fact  which  be- 

1  Kuhn,  op.  cit.  229.  The  words  used  to  describe  them  are  7r6Xets 
and  TToklxvi-a ;  but  they  were  small  and  weak.  Paus.  vi.  12,  3  ; 
Xen.  Hist.  vii.  5,  5  ;  of.  Grote,  vii.  196. 

2  Strabo,  p.  358. 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  53 

came  the  nucleus  of  the  legend  of  the  foundation  of 
Kome  by  Komulus  and  Kemus.  Thus  we  seem  to 
see  from  the  beginning,  as  we  might  have  expected, 
a  difference  between  the  character  of  the  Latin 
village  community  and  that  of  Greece.  The  latter 
seems  to  have  been  comparatively  isolated,  and  to 
have  found  the  process  of  union  slow  and  difficult ; 
and  the  same  dislike  of  amalgamation  was  inherited 
by  the  City-State  of  the  Greeks  from  the  com- 
munities which  had  generated  it,  and  acted  as  a 
centrifugal  force,  as  we  shall  see,  throughout  Greek 
history.  But  in  Latium,  if  not  elsewhere  in  Italy 
we  can  trace  from  the  beginning  a  tendency 
the  villages  to  gather  in  groups,^  a  tendency  : 
herent  in  the  race,  and  destined  to  give  them 
very  different  future  from  that  of  the  Greek  peoples. 
They  were  at  all  times  a  practical  people,  who 
saw  their  own  advantage  and  acted  upon  it ;  and  in 
their  early  relations  with  each  other,  whether  public 
or  private,  they  showed  a  power  of  accommodation 
which  eventually  became  the  natural  basis  of  B^nan 
kw — their  greatest  contribution  to  civilisation.'* 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  at  a  very  early 
period  the  Latin  people  were  grouped  in  "  cantons," 
as  they  have  been  called,  i.e.  in  clusters  of  village 
communities,  each  owning  a  citadel  of  refuge  and 
worship ;  and  Further,  that  the  whole  race  had_a 
common_worship  and  a  common  political  centre  on 
the  conspicuous  Alban  hill  (Monte  Cavo),  whence 
Jupiter  Latiaris,  the  divine  father,  looked  down  upon 
his  people.      One  of  the  communities  which  shared 


^arquardt,  Staatsverwaltung,  i.  2. 


!>" 


54  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

his  worship  had  occupied  as  their  citadel  a  square 
hill,  some  160  feet  above  the  sea,  whose  steep  and 
rocky  sides  fell  sharply  to  the  southern  banks  of 
the  Tiber,  and  to  the  marshy  ground  which  the 
river  sometimes  overflowed.  Three  communities 
seem  to  have  had  their  residence  as  well  as  their 
refuge  on  this  hill,  while  their  farms  (pagi)  lay 
around  it;  these  three  oldest  settlements  of  the 
oldest   Eome  were   the    Cermalus,  the  Velia,    and 

^^  the  Palatium.  The  whole  hill  came  to  be  called 
the  Palatine ;  its  natural  strength  was  increased  by 
massive  masonry,  fragments  of  which  we  may  see 
still  on  its  northern  and  western  sides ;  and  its 
position  as  commanding  the  Tiber,  and  as  the  out- 
post of  Latium  on  the  borders  of  Etruria,  marked  it 
out  for  a  great  future. 

\y  This  triple  community  would  probably  have  been 
called  by  the  Greeks  a  ttoXl'^vlov  or  TroXtf;  in  the 
earlier  sense,  as  we  saw  it  used  of  the  Arcadian 
communities  which  went  to  form  the  city  of  Mega- 
lopolis. It  could  hardly  have  been  deemed  a  real 
TToXi^ ;  nor  can  we  name  a  time  at  which  the  City- 
State  of  Eome  began  its  true  existence.  But  we 
can  trace  two  stages  of  its  growth,  in  each  of  which 
the  genius  of  the  Latins  for  cohesion  was  the  guiding 
spirit  of  its  advance.  There  were  other  hills  around 
the  Palatine  which  invited  settlement.  Four  com- 
jnunities  on  the  Esquiline  formed  a  union  with  the 
/three  on  the  Palatine,  and  this  union  was  kept  up 
/  in  the  memory  of  the  Eomans  for  centuries  by  the 
festival  of  the  Septimontium  on  11th  December, 
^-O:.  /    which  had  not  become  quite  forgotten  even  in  the 


II  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  55 

days  of  the  Empire.^     On  the  Quirinal  hill,  to  the    I 
north-east,  there  settled  yet  another  community,  or  ' 
group  of  communities,  with  its  own  worships  and 
its  own  citadel,  and  in  due  time  a  fusion  took  place 
between  this  and  its  neighbours  on  the  seven  mounts.\ 
The  whole  area  occupied  by  all  these  settlements  was  /^ 
eventually  encircled   by   one    great  wall  and  foss, 
ascribed  to  Servius  TuUius,  of  which  fragments  are 
still  to  be  seen ;   a  single  arx  or  citadel  was  forti- 
fied on  the  small  and  steep  Capitoline  hill,  which 
j^^^^had  perhaps  been  hitherto  unoccupied  ;    the  wor- 
ships were  fused  together,  though  always  retaining  K^*^ 
traces   of  a  distinct  origin,  and  in  the  end   there  ' 
arose  on  the  Capitoline  a  new  and  splendid  temple 
to   mark   the   completed   union   of  the  component    \ 
parts  of  a  great  city.      But  long  before  that  temple     \ 
of  Jupiter,  Juno,  and  Minerva  had  been  erected  by 
Etruscan  conquerors,  Eome  had  grown  into  a  City-^^>>^ 
State,  with  its  king's  house,  its  sacred   hearth  or     / 
temple  of  Vesta,  and  its  open'inarket-place,  placed 
together  in  a  central  position  between  the  Palatine, 
Esquiline,  and  Quirinal.^  *Jr-»tiM>,<-- 1    U  ', 

Such  then,  in  briefest  outline,  were  the  beginnings 
of  the  TToXt?, — of  the  City-State  of  Greece  and  Italy. 
From  the  cities  thus  formed  there  were  born  in- 
numerable others,  which  had  not  to  go  through  the 
same  slow  processes  of  growth,  but  sprang  at  once, 

1  Plutarch,  Qumst.  Rom.  69  ;  Suetonius,  Vita  Domitiani,  4. 

-  The  position  of  the  Regia  and  Vesta -temple  between  the 
Palatine  and  Esquiline  hills  seem  to  suggest  that  they  also 
formed  the  centre -point  of  the  united  communities  of  the  Sep- 
tem  montes,  before  the  final  union  with  the  settlement  on  the 
Quirinal. 


56,  THE  CITY-STATE  chap,  ii 

like  Athene  from  the  head  of  Zeus,  complete  organ- 
isms and  fully  armed.  By  far  the  greater  number 
of  Greek  cities  were  colonies  from  States  already 
formed  and  often  even  over-populated  ;  but  as  these 
ultimately  owed  their  existence  to  the  conditions  of 
growth  which  we  have  already  been  examining,  the 
story  of  their  origin  does  not  fall  within  the  scope 
of  this  chapter.  Tar  less  does  that  of  the  military 
colonies  of  Eome,  which  were  never  independent 
political  units,  but  at  all  times  a  part,  strange  as 
it  may  seem,  of  the  ever-growing  City-State  which 
founded  them.  We  may  safely  leave  these,  and 
turn  for  a  while  to  consider  the  nature  of  the 
State  we  have  seen  generated,  and  of  the  earliest 
form  of  its  government. 


CHAPTEE   III 

NATURE    OF    THE    STATE,    AND    ITS    FIRST 
FORM    OF    GOVERNMENT 

The  City-State  once  realised,  at  the  moment  when 
the  smaller  units  gave  up  their  separate  existence 
to   become    one    powerful  whole,    a   new  era   was 
entered   on   in  which  the  possibilities    of  advance 
were  boundless.     A  new  species  of  community  had 
been  developed,  with  the  germs  lying  hidden  within  ] 
it  of  such  bloom  and  fruit  as  man  had  never  yet  ^ 
dreamed  of     The  first  members  of  the  new  com- 
munity can  hardly  have  realised  this  ;  but  we,  look- 
ing back  into  the.  ages,  can  see  it,  and  the  Greek  \ 
philosophers,  when  they  came  to  turn  their  thoughts   \ 
upon  the  nature  of  the  State  they  lived  in,  recog- 
nised it  as  a  leading  fact  in  the  history  of  mankind.    -^ 
It  may  be  as  well,  before  we  go  further,  to  consider 
it  for  a  moment  in  the  light  of  their  reflections,  and 
to  ask  the  fundamental  question  with  which  Aristotle 
enters  on  his  discussion  of  the  State, — In  what  way 
did  this  new  kind  of  community  essentially  differ 
from  those  which  preceded  it  ? 


t- 


\ 


58  \     THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

We  can  ourselves  realise,  without  much  effort, 
in  the  light  of  the,liighest  ends  of  human  life,i;iow 
great  is  the  difference  between  a  highly  organised 
State  and  all  less  perfect  forms  of  association. 
We  can  compare  the  possibilities  of  progress  in  a 
well-knit  State,  and  in  an  imperfectly  civilised 
society,  and  see  how  art  and  literature,  morality 
and  material  comfort,  find  a  much  more  favourable 
soil  in  the  one  than  in  the  other.  We  know,  for  A 
example;  how  the  conscience  and  the  genius  of  Eng-  1 
lishmen  began  at  last  to  find  utterance  when  the  , 
nation  was  strongly  knit  together  under  Henry 
YIII.,  and  again  under  Elizabeth,  after  being  choked 
by  disunion  for  many  generations.  We  can  see 
how  even  the  modern  Socialist,  who  is  apt  to  hanker 
after  an  economy  like  that  of  the  Middle  Ages,  or 
even  after  the  simplicity  of  savage  life,  is  forced  to 
assume  an  even  more  fully  developed  State-power 
than  we  have  as  yet  attained  to,  for  the  realisation 
of  the  social  perfection  of  his  fancy.  In  spite  of 
all  its  shortcomings,  our  modern  State  is  all  in  all 
to  us ;  it  must  seem  capable  of  bringing  about  such 
human  perfection  as  we  can  aspire  to,  for  we  can 
imagine  nothing  beyond  it,  except  in  the  vaguest 
dreams  of  a  far  distant  future. 

Yet  it  may  be  doubted  whether  we  can  see  into 
these  things  with  a  vision  so  clear  and  comprehen- 
sive as  that  of  the  Greek  philosophers.      Our  State,"! 
as  I  said  in  the  first  chapter,  is  not  so  easily  reasoned   I 
on ;    its  life  is  not   so  visibly  focussed  for  us  as^ 
theirs.     Plato  and  Aristotle,  like  Herodotus  before 
them,  seeing    the    peoples  around  them   living  in 


Ill  ITS  FIRST  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  69 

village  communities  like  the  ^tolians  or  Mace- 
donians, or  in  very  imperfect  States  like  those  of  the 
Oriental  nations,  and  themselves  enjoying  the  ripe 
culture,  the  liberty,  the  leisure,  and  the  comfort 
which  the  City-State  had  brought  them,  easily  came 
to  believe  that  there  was  something  almost  divine 
in  the  ttoX^-?,  enabling  it  to  outstrip  all  other  forms 
of  association  in  the  power  of  developing  man's  best 
instincts.  With  that  mysterious  power  of  the  Greek 
to  beautify  and  idealise  everything  he  touched,  Plato 
immortalised  the  TroXt?  by  the  very  perfection  of  his 
ideal  picture  of  it ;  and  if  all  Greek  history  were  I 
lost,  and  the  Eepublic  alone  remained,  we  should  ' 
still  be  able  to  understand  the  depth  of  Greek  con- 
viction which  connected  political  forms  with  the 
moral  and  intellectual  perfectibility  of  human 
nature.  But  m  Aristotle  this  idealisation  was 
tempered  both  with  the  critical  spirit  and  with  a 
strict  adherence  to  the  essential  facts  of  Greek  life, 
and  in  seeking  for  the  real  distinction  between  the 
City-State  and  all  earlier  and  less  perfect  associa- 
tions, we  cannot  do  JDctter-  than  follow  in  his 
footsteps. 

There  are  only  two  or  three  points  in  Aris-totle's 
theory  of  the  State  to  which  we  need  at  present    \ 
advert,  but  these  are  essentially  axioms,  which  con- 
dition all  his  political  thinking. 

Let  us  place  first  his  famous  dictum,  that  while  i^ 
the  end  of  all  earlier  forms  of  society  is  simply  life,  \ 
the  end  of  the  StateisuoofliLZi/kJ-     What  a  world  of 


^  Politics,  i.  2,  8  ;  1252  B  ;  yivofi^vr}  /xh  rod  ^rjv  eveKev,  odaa  bk  rod 
c(5  ^Tjv  ;  that  is,  the  7r6Xis  is  the  earliest  association  of  which  the 


> 


60  THE  CITY-STATE  CH 

thought  is  suggested  by  this  little  sentence,  and  how  ^ 
true  it  is  to  the  facts !  Thucydides  describes  the 
Greeks  before  the  era  of  the  ttoXl^  as  scraping  to- 
gether just  sufficient  subsistence  to  live  upon,  and 
he  was  probably  thinking  of  the  conditions  of  life 
known  to  him  in  parts  of  Greece  where  the  State 
had  not  yet  been  generated.  Almost  exactly  the 
same  language  is  used  by  Sir  H.  Maine  of  the  vil- 
lage community  in  India,  and  the  picture  drawn  by 
Mr.  Wallace  of  life  in  the  Eussian  mir  suggests 
precisely  the  same  limit  to  the  field  of  human 
enterprise.^  But  in  rising  out  of  the  life  of  th^ 
village  into  that  of  the  State,  man  rises,  or  at  least 

Imay  rise,  from  the  idea  of  material  supply  to  that 
of  moral  and  intellectual  advance.  Aristotle  is 
careful  to  make  us  understand  what  he  means  by 

(  "  good  life  "  ;  it  is  the  life  wln£h^j3est_jealises,.the — . 

)  best  instincts  of  man.  The  law  and  the  education 
jbf  the  State  will  make  the  citizens  good  and  just  men, 
i  enjoying  "  a  perfect  and  self-sufficing  life,"  develop- 
( ing  the  unimpeded  activity  of  their  moral  and  intel-^_^ 

/  lectual  excellence.^     Art,  literature,  law,  philosophy,     ^ 

(  could  not  ripen  in  the  family  or  the  village ;  the 
narrow  limits,  the  insecurity,  the  constant  toil  of 
that  earlier  life,  impeded  all  activity  in  such  direc- 
tions, though  the  instincts  might  strive  to  assert 

'   themselves.     And  so  too  with  justice — the  perfectly 

"end"  is  good  life.  Cf.  1.  9,  16;  1258  A.  Cf.  also  Professor 
Bradley's  Essay  mHellenica,  p.  192  foil.  The  "end"  of  a  thing, 
in  Aristotle's  view,  is  the  perfect  form  in  which  nature  strives  to 
realise  it. 

1  Maine,  Village  Communities,  p.  175  ;  Wallace,  Bussia,  ch.  viii. 

2  Eellenica,  p.  193  foil. 


Ill  ITS  FIEST  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  61 

harmonious  relation  of  man  to  man  in   society — 
"  the  State  develops  virtues  unknown,  or  imperfectly  I    i 
known,  to  the  family  and  the  village  ;  justice,  in  the 
true  sense,  first  appears  in  the  State."  ^  / 

The  same  idea  of  the  State  is  further  enforced  . 
by  the  doctrine  that  the  State  is  a  naHral  growth, 
i.e.  that  it  is  not  the  artificial  result  of  a  convention 
or  compact  between  individuals.     It  is  the  natural  i^ 
and   inevitable  result  of  man's   desire  to  use   his  \ 
faculties  to  the  best  purpose,  to  force  his  way  on- 
wards to  his  appointed  end.      The  family  and  the 
village  could  not   realise   that   end  for  him;  they 
limited  and  hampered  his  activity  at  every  point, 
excepting  so  far  as  they  enabled  him  to  procure  a 
bare  subsistence.     Not  content  with  this  he  pushes 
upward  with  an  unconscious  growth  Uke  that  of  a 
plant,  and  at  last  produces  a  form  of  social  existence  | 
in  which  all  his  needs  can  be  satisfied.     He  is  by  . 
nature  meant  to  be  a  member  of  a  State,  and  with-  1 
out  the  State  he  cannot  fully  realise  his  true  nature.  ! 
Here,  as  Mr.  Newman  admirably  expresses  it,  "  he 
breathes   at   last   his   native    air,   reaches  his   full 
stature,  and  attains  the  end  of  his  being.      Society  , 
is  no  longer  a  warping  and  disturbing,  but  an  ele 
vating  and  ennobling  influence."  ^     He  only  nee< 
to  perfect  the  State  itself, — a  process  which  neither 
Plato  nor  Aristotle  believed  to  be  complete  in  their 
day,  if  indeed  it  ever  could  be  completed, — in  order 
to  raise  human  nature  to  the  highest  possible  degree 
of  perfection.     It  has  been  truly  said  that  the  Greeks 

^  Newman,  Politics  of  Aristotle,  i.    38  ;  cf.  p.  69. 
2  Ojp.  cit.  i.  557  ;  Aristotle,  Politics,  i.  2,  9  ;  1253  A. 


62  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

were  essentially  seekers  ;^  and  if  in   some  paths  of 
search  they  sought  and  never  found,  in  the  problems^^ 
of  social  life  at  least  they  laid  hold  on  a  great  prize, 
and  did  not  underrate  its  value. 

Nothing  can  be  clearer   to   the   reader   of  the 
Politics  than  Aristotle's  conviction  that  no  higher 
form  of  social  union  was  possible  than  that  of  the 
City -State.      Of  Empire — of  the  subordination  off 
several  States  to  one  ruling  State — he  has  nothing  i      ^ 
to  tell  us ;  he  must  have  looked  on  such  a  form  of  j    > 
union  as  artificial  and  unnatural,  and  therefore  as  j    ^ 
beyond  the  scope  of  his  inquiry.     Nor  does  he  treat 
of  Federation,  or  the  union  of  several  States  under  a 
common  government  for  the  common  good ;  to  his 
mind  the  City- State  should  need  no  help  from  other 
States,  and  in  combining  with  them  would  only  be 
surrendering  a  part  of  its  own  essential  vitality.    The 
ideal  State  must  be  wholly  independent  of  others, 
wholly  self-sufficing ;  it  must  be  able  to  maintain  its 
own  character  as  a  State,  by  itself  and  for  itself, 
^without  aid  or  stimulus  from  without.^     Its  beauty 
and   its   order  are   the   result  of  its  own   natural 
growth,   and    must  be  secured  and    enhanced    by 
purely  natural  means. 

And  here  Aristotle  does  but  reflect  the  inborn 
tendency  of  the  Greeks  to  dislike  all  larger  political- 
unions  ;  a  tendency  which,  as  we  saw,  was  less .  • 
strong,  or  at  least  less  permanent,  in  the  sister 
peninsula.  To  the  Greek  thinker,  as  to  the  ordin- 
ary Greek  citizen,  all  federations  were  a  step  down- 

^  See  the  preface  to  Holm's  GriecMsche  Geschichte,  p.  xi. 
2  Aristotle,  Politics,  1326  B. 


5  ^ 


Ill  ITS  FIRST  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  63 

ward,  and  all  empires  were  destructive  of  man's 
best  chances.  The  City-State  could  not  join  with 
others  in  any  such  union,  whether  by  consent  or  by 
compulsion,  without  giving  up  some  of  those  precious 
characteristics  which  Aristotle  postulated  as  necessary 
to  a  perfect  State,  and  therefore  as  equally  essential 
to  the  production  of  perfect  man.  And  in  this 
instinct  of  his,  which  Aristotle  thus  reflected,  it  can 
hardly  be  denied  that  the  Greek  was  right.  So  far 
as  he  could  attain  perfection  at  all,  he  could  attain  , 
it  only  in  his  peculiar  form  of  State.  As  that  form  | 
of  State  decays,  the  value  of  Greek  life  diminishes 
with  it.  There  came  a  time  in  later  Greek  history 
when  the  cities  were  forced  to  unite  together  in 
self-defence,  and  again  a  time  when,  falling  under 
the  dominion  of  Macedon  and  Kome,  they  were 
absorbed  into  a  wider  and  grander  system  of  political 
union  than  any  they  had  themselves  developed ; 
but  the  Greek  life  of  those  later  days  was  not  the 
life  to  which  we  look  back  with  most  reverence;  it  was 
not  the  spring-time  of  the  rarest  gifts  of  humanity. 
It  was  the  Hellas  of  the  true  7roXt9  which  produced  "'^^7  ■ 
Sappho  and  Sophocles,  Herodotus  and  Pheidias,  and  *fi.t^ 
Plato.  And  in  another  way  the  same  thing  is  true 
also  of  Eome ;  as  a  City-State  she  developed  the 
germs  of  all  that  was  most  fruitful  in  her  civilisation, 
and  produced  the  noblest  types  of  Eoman  character. 
In  ceasing  to  be  a  City-State  she  lost  her  own  in- 
dividual genius,  her  stately  morale,  her  inflexible 
courage.  Assuredly  it  was  in  this  form  of  union 
that  the  gifts  and  the  virtues  of  both  races  found 
their  best  expression. 


64  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

/ 

^  We  have  now  to  trace  the  steps  by  which  the 
City-State  reached  such  perfection  as  it  was  capable 
of  attaining.  In  all  cases  it  passed  through  many 
vicissitudes  of  fortune,  and  was  forced  to  learn  by 
the  experience  of  failure  and  disaster.  Its  progress 
was  attended  by  the  drawbacks  that  seem  to  dog 
all  human  effort ;  for  example,  it  could  not  exist 
without  sjavery,  and  it  never  wholly  freed  itself  1 
from  the  distinction  of  privileged  and  unprivileged^ 
The  citizen  who  really  reached  his  full  stature,  and 
attained,  in  Aristotelian  phrase,  the  true  end  of  his 
being,  was  one  of  comparatively  few :  the  great 
majority  of  those  who  lived  around  him  either 
toiled  for  his  enjoyment,  or  looked  enviously  on 
his  advantages.  We  cannot  call  any  City-State 
perfect;  but  as  we  turn  from  the  philosophers  to 
the  reality,  we  can  see  humanity  slowly  struggling 
towards  perfection  in  this  form  of  social  union,  in 
spite  of  many  obstacles  never  wholly  overcome. 

The  first  unquestionable  fact  which  meets  us  in 
the  life  of  this  new  kind  of  community  is  that  it 
was  originally  governed  by  kings.  The  thing  was 
expressed  by  various  words — Basileus,  Archon, 
Prytanis,  Eex,  Dictator — but,  so  far  as  we  know,  it 
was  always  there  in  the  childhood  of  the  ancient 
State.-^  Tradition,  both  in  Greece  and  Italy,  always 
told  of  a  time  when  the  essential  acts  of  govern- 

^  "The  king  represents  the  national  as  distinguished  from  the 
tribal  form  of  political  development."  —  Freeman,  Comparative 
Politics,  p.  165.  The  lecture  from  which  this  passage  is  quoted  is 
full  of  useful  material  for  the  study  of  kingship  in  general. 


uMh^ 


III  ITS  FIRST  FOEM  OF  GOVERNMENT  65 

ment  were  performed  either  by  or  under  the 
authority  of  a  single  man ;  and  in  this  case  we 
can  be  sure  that  tradition  was  right.  Both  Thucy- 
dides  and  Aristotle  accepted  it ;  ^  at  conservative 
Sparta  the  king  himself  survived  throughout  her 
history  ;  and  at  Athens  and  Eome  kingship  left 
traces  behind  it  when  it  had  vanished,  which  the 
"method  of  survivals"  has  co-ordinated  with  a 
definite  result. 

We  can  best  study  kingship  by  comparing  three 
different  forms  of  it,  which  seem  roughly  to  repre- 
sent three  successive  stages  in  its  history.  We 
can  see  it  in  the  Homeric  poems,  where  on  the 
whole  it  appears  as  an  undefined  and  therefore 
early  form ;  next  in  the  earliest  constitution  of 
Eome,  which  represents  a  later  stage,  and  shows 
it  defined  with  tolerable  exactness  by  custom  and^ 
tradition ;  and  lastly,  as  a  survival  at  Sparta,  re- 
taining its  old  characteristics  of  form,  but  much 
modified  in  actual  practice. 

I.  We  no  sooner  touch  the  Homeric  poems  than 
we  are  met  by  the  question.  Was  the  City -State 
already  in  existence  when  they  took  their  present 
shape  ?  In  any  case,  are  we  justified  in  using 
Homer  as  evidence  for  the  earliest  form  of  State 
government  ?  On  the  whole  we  are  so  justified, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  first  of  these  questions 
must  be  answered  in  the  negative.  It  has  already 
been  pointed  out  (see  p.  47)  that  recent  archseo- 
logical  discovery  seems  to  indicate  a  clear  line  of 
distinction  between  the  civilisation  of  the  age  repre- 

.     ^  Thucyd.  i.  13,  1  ;  Aristotle,  Politics,  i.  2,  6,  and  elsewhere. 

F 


(j6  the  city-state  CHAr. 

sented  in  Homer  and  the  civilisation  of  the  ttoXl^. 
But  it  may  now  be  assumed  as  certain,  that  the 
Homeric  poems  as  we  have  them  were  put  together 
on  the  later  side  of  this  line,  and  that  they  do  not 
all  represent  the  same  age,  or  exactly  the  same 
state  of  society.  The  Iliad,  or  the  oldest  portions 
of  it,  seems  to  contain  reminiscences  of  an  older 
type  of  polity,  in  which  great  chiefs  ruled  over 
wide  and  loosely  united  territories,  as  the  early 
kings  of  France  or  Scotland  ruled  over  lesser 
chieftains  whom  they  could  only  attempt  to  con- 
trol.^ The  Odyssey,  and  especially  those  parts  of 
it  which  are  believed  to  be  of  the  latest  origin, 
gives  us  the  idea  of  a  society  altered  in  some  im- 
portant features,  and  tending  towards  the  develop- 
ment of  that  kind  of  polity  which  is  the  object  of 
our  study. 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  there  is  little  or  no  sign 
even  in  the  Odyssey  of  the  life  of  the  fully  formed 
State.  The  town  is  there,  and  it  is  frequently  called 
TToXt? ;  the  king^  and  the  chief  men  seem  to  reside 
in  it,  and  their  dwellings  show  a  comfort  and  afflu- 
ence which  mark  an  advanced  civilisation ;  yet  the 
life  is  essentially  rural,  the  wealth  is  reckoned  by 
flocks  and  herds,  and  we  find  few  traces  of"  that 
public  interest  and  concentrated  population  which 
mark  the  true  City-State.     Perhaps  we  may  pro- 

^  In  the  description  of  the  shield  of  Achilles  we  do,  however, 
see  pictured  something  very  like  the  life  of  the  City-State  (//.  xviii. 
490  folL) ;  and  this  is  by  common  consent  allowed  to  be  one  of  the 
oldest  parts  of  the  Iliad.  On  the  subject  of  the  Homeric  polity, 
Fanta's  little  work,  Der  Staat  in  der  Ilias  und  Odyssce  (Innsbiiick, 
1882),  will  be  found  useful. 


Ill  ITS  FIRST  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  67 

visionally  conclude  that  the  State  appears  in  the 
Odyssey  as  ripe  indeed  for  formation,  but  not  yet    / 
really  formed ;  all  the  materials  are  there,  but  the   ' 
building  is  not  as  yet  complete.     And  if  this  view  W*^ 
be  the   right   one,  we   may  surely   use   Homer  as 
picturing  for  us,  in  outline  at  least,  the  features  of 
the  kingship  of  the  new-born  State ;  for  not  only 
have  we  abundant  evidence  that  those  same  features 
were  retained  long  after  the  State  had  been  formed, 
but  nothing  is  more  intrinsically  probable  than  that 
an  institution,  which  certainly  existed  long  before 
the  State  arose,  should  have  been  accepted  as  an  [    , 
heirloom  by  the  earliest  "  statesmen." 

What  strikes  us  at  once  about  the  Basileus  in 
Homer  is,  that  he  is  one  among  many ;  there  are 
kings  of  all  degrees,  from  Agamemnon,  who  in  the 
poet's  fancy  rules  over  wide  territories,  and  appears 
sometimes  almost  as  master  of  an  empire,  down  to 
the  most  insignificant  chieftain  who  bears  the  title 
of  Basileus.^  At  once,  therefore,  we  get  a  warning 
against  the  mistake  of  supposing  that  there  is  any- 
thing of  the  nature  of  a  fixed  constitution  to  be 
discovered  in  Homer.  The  king  has  no  clearly 
defined  limits  to  his  power  of  government;  king- 
ship is  not  an  office,  a  magistracy,  as  we  think  of 
it,  with  a  certain  sphere  of  duty  and  limit  of  action. 
It  is  rather  a  social  position,  like  that  of  the  "  eorl  "     / 

^  Cf.  the  Homeric  forms  jBaaiXevTepos  and  jSao-tXeirraTos  {11.  ix. 
69,  X.  239).  A  single  instance  may  here  suffice  of  the  multiplica- 
tion of  Basileis  ;  in  Scheria  there  were  thirteen  {Od.  viii.  390), 
with  Alcinous  apparently  chief  among  them.  Cf.  Gilbert,  Griech. 
Alterthumer,  ii.  p.  272,  note  2,  where  the  many  Basileis  of  the 
Odyssey  are  contrastei  with  the  great  kings  of  the  Iliad. 


68  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


of  oiir  early  history,  with  various  grades  depending 
on  varying  wealth,  and  expecting  rather  than  de- 
xnanding  reverence,  obedience,  and  tribute  from  all 
men  of  lower  station.^  It  is  an  ancient  and  a 
sj;  hallowed  institution,  for  all  Basileis  are  believed  to 
"^^  he  of  divine  ancestry,  and  all  carry  the  sceptre,  or 
^'  rod  of  office  ;  no  one  questions  their  authority;  they 
are  the  best  men,  and  it  is  by  the  inspiration  of  the 
gods  that  they  give  judgment.  Their  sons  succeed 
to  their  wealth  and  influence,  and  are  watched  with 
loving  care  in  their  youth  as  the  future  leaders  of 
the  people.  It  is  clear,  then,  that  if  we  use  the 
word  king  of  the  Homeric  Basileus,  we  must  bear 
in  mind  that  he  is  rather  a  hereditary  chieftain 
than  a  constitutional  king,  and  that  his  power 
at  home  and  in  peace  rests  simply  on  aristocratic 
sentiment.  It  is,  indeed,  quite  true  to  say  that 
this  kingship  was  merely  the  formal  expression  of 
am  aristocracy,  and  rested  on  no  independent  basis 
of  its  own.^ 

We  must  be  careful  to  remember  this  in  ex- 
amining the  nature  of  the  powers  exercised  by  the 
Homeric  Basileus.  These  powers  are  generally 
represented  as  being  threefold — religious,  military, 
and  judicial, — and  this  is  in  the  main  true  ;  but  they 
are  very  far  from  being  distinctly  outlined,  and  do 
not  answer  to  our  notions  of  a  clear-cut  constitu- 

^  The  word  tl/jlit]  lias  been  thought  (by  Fanta,  p.  49)  to  express, 
as  a  definite  political  term,  the  position  and  power  of  the  Basileus  ; 
but  this  is  not  borne  out  by  the  passages  quoted,  e.g.  II.  i.  278, 
vi.  193.  The  word  seems  really  rather  to  indicate  the  non-political 
nature  of  the  power. 

2  Henkel,  Studien,  p.  57,  quoted  by  Newman,  Politics,  i.  283. 


Ill  ITS  FIRST  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  69 

tional  law.     The  king  is  indeed  the  representative , 
of  the  community  in  all  its  most  important  relations  1 
with  gods  and  with  men.     He  knows  how  to  pro-  ' 
pitiate  the  gods  worshipped  by  the  community,  who 
have  given  him  the  tc/jlt]  by  which  he  rules.     He 
knows  how  to  make  war  and  to  make  peace,  how 
to  receive  the  guest  and  the  fugitive  according  to 
the  customs  of  the  people  and  the  will  of  Zeus. 
But  his  duties  are  neither  constant  nor  defined  ;  and 
this  must  be  borne  in  mind  if,  for  convenience'  sake, 
we  examine  them  briefly  in  the  triple  form  in  which 
they  are  usually  presented.^ 

The  King  as   Sacrificer. — When  we  find  Aga- 
memnon   sacrificing   for   the   whole   host,^  we    are    ^^ 
naturally  inclined  to  ask,  Where  is  the  priest  ?    And 
here  we  have  to  learn,  once  and  for  all,  that  there 
was  no  such  distinction  in  antiquity  between  magis- 
trate and  priest  as  our  modern  ideas  would  lead  us 
to  imagine.     As  every  father  of  a  family  was  the 
sacrificer  for  his  own  household,  so  was  every  king  V 
a  sacrificer  on  behalf  of  his  people.      Sacrifice  was  \  '' ' 
the    most  universal    and    efficacious    act   of   early   \ 
religion ;  it  was  matter  of  daily  performance,  and 
nothing  could  be  undertaken  without  it.^      Who- 
ever was  in  authority  must  be  able  to  perform  it 

^  Perhaps  the  best  general  account  of  Homeric  kingship  is  still 
to  be  found  in  Schomann's  Political  Antiquities  of  Greece,  p.  22 
foil.  (Eng.  trans.)  See  also  Jebb's  Homer,  p.  46  ;  Gladstone's 
Homer  and  the  Homeric  Age,  vol.  i.  p.  440.  But  it  is  not  a 
laborious  task  to  gather  the  material  together  from  the  poems 
themselves. 

2  II.  ii.  402  foil.     Cf.  Od.  xiii.  281  foil. 

'  See  articles  "Sacrificium,"  "Sacerdos,"  and  "Rex,"  in  Smith's 


70  THE   CITY-STATE  chap. 

rightly,  i.e.  according  to  traditional  ritual,  for  to 
him  all  looked  for  the  due  maintenance  of  salutary 
relations  with  the  gods.  Every  chieftain,  great  or 
small,  must  have  exercised  this  duty  at  home  in  his 
own  community,  though  in  time  of  war  it  might 
fall  to  the  greatest  only.  To  him  and  to  his  family 
alone  were  known  the  secrets  of  the  office  ;  it  might 
happen  that  even  if  he  ceased  to  be  king  in  the 
Homeric  sense, — if  his  kingship  were  merged  in  a 
larger  one,  or  if  his  family  became  only  one  among 
other  noble  ones  in  a  newly-formed  City- State,  it 
still  retained  the  sacrificial  knowledge  and  the  sole 
right  to  minister  to  the  deity  of  the  community. 
Hence  arose  the  hereditary  local  priesthood  of  early 
Greece  ;  it  begins  with  the  chieftain,  and  descends 
as  an  heirloom  in  his  family  long  after  his  secular 
authority  has  passed  away.  Aristotle  tells  us  that 
the  Homeric  Basileus  controlled  all  sacrifices  except 
those  which  specially  belonged  to  priests  ;^  by  which 
I  understand  him  to  mean,  not  so  much  that  there 
was  a  distinction  between  the  kingly  and  the 
priestly  offices,  but  that  already  some  noble  (or 
kingly)  families  had  lost  the  one  while  they  re- 
tained the  other.      It  will  be  important  to  bear  this 

Diet,  of  Classical  Antiquities  (new  edition).  It  was  on  this  side  of 
the  king's  power  that  Fustel  de  Coulanges  laid  so  much  stress  in 
his  brilliant  book  La  Cite  antique.  He  found  the  origin  of  early- 
monarchies  almost  entirely  in  the  religious  importance  of  the  chiefs 
of  family,  gens,  and  city.  But  this  is  not  borne  out  by  what  we 
know  of  the  early  history  of  the  king,  or  by  the  etymology  of  the 
names  by  which  he  was  called.  Sacrificial  knowledge  was  a  neces- 
sary condition,  but  not  the  only  one,  of  his  power. 
1  Politics,  1285  B. 


/ 

III  ITS  FIRST  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  71 

in  mind  when  we  come  in  the  next  chapter  to  the 
period  of  aristocratic  government. 

The  King  as  Commander  of  the  Host. — All  that 
needs  to  be  remarked  on  this  point  is,  that  not  even  / 
in  war  does  the  Homeric  king  appear  to  be  absolute. 
Aristotle  indeed  says  that  he  had  the  power  of  life 
and  death  in  the  field,  and  quotes  Homer  to  prove 
it;  but  the  words  {irap  yap  i/xol  Bdvaro^)  of  his 
quotation  are  not  to  be  found  in  the  poems  as  we 
have  them.^  Such  power  would  seem  to  postulate 
a  much  more  clearly  defined  polity  than  that  which 
Homer  depicts.  We  find  the  king  in  the  Iliad 
deliberating  with  other  chiefs, — with  his  council  of 
elderly  men^  and  wise,  the  Witenagemot  of  that 
day ;  and  we  find  even  the  people  present  at  these 
deliberations  as  listeners  who  may  express  their 
approval  or  disapproval.  Thus,  though  there  is  no 
constitution  here,  even  in  time  of  war,  there  are,  in 
solution  as  it  were,  th-e  elements  of  a  constitution ; 
the  nobility  is  there  to  advise,  and  the  people  have 
a  right  to  express  their  feelings.  And  that  these 
elements  of  a  constitution,  as  we  see  them  in  time 
of  war,  also  represent  in  the  main  the  relations  of 
king,  council,  and  commons  in  time  of  peace  can 
admit  of  no  doubt.     We  should,  however,  remember 

1  Politics,  1285  A.     Cf.,  however,  II.  xv.  348. 

^  The  yipovres  in  Homer  are  not  necessarily  elderly  men.     But 

he  word  itself,  like  Senatus,  is  proof  of  the  idea  on  which  the 

nstitution  is  based,  i.e.  chieftaincy  of  some  degree,  for  which  the 

on  has  had  to  wait  till  his  father  has  died  or  stepped  aside,  and 

he  himself  is  growing  old.     At  Sparta  the  fact  as  well  as  the  word 

survived  ;  no  one  under  sixty  years  of  age  could  be  a  member  of 

the  Gerousia.     Plutarch,  LycurgiLs,  26. 


72  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


/ 


that  in  war  the  outlines  of  authority  are  likely  to 
be  more  sharply  defined  than  in  peace,  and  that  a 
•long  period  of  war  would  have  a  tendency  to  in- 
I  crease  the  king's  authority,  so  long  as  he  survived. 
His  normal  power  at  home  was  probably  of  a  very 
gentle  kind,  as  might  be  expected  in  a  society  that 
was  so  entirely  aristocratic. 

The  King  as  Judge. — In  a  full-grown  State,  such 
as  Athens,  Eome,  or  any  modern  State,  the  executive, 
as  we  call  it,  has  a  large  amount  of  varied  business 
to  perform.     But  in  an  early  state  of  society,  exe-^ 
cutive.  government  consists  almost  entirely  of  the  1 
decision  of  disputes ;  and  even  this  sphere  of  judi- 
cial  action  was    a    limited    one,    for    thieves    and 
adulterers  taken  in  the   act  could  be  put  to  death 
without  ceremony,  and  the  revenge  of  murder  was  j 
the    duty    of    the    family    or    clan  of   the  victim,  | 
unless  a  proper  indemnity  {iroLvrj)  was  offered  by 
the    murderer.^      Still  disputes    would    arise,   per- 
haps more  often  between  families  than  individuals, 
which  could  only  be  settled  by  bringing  the  force  of 
the  community  to  bear  on  them  :  and  wherein  was 
this  force   to  be   found   concentrated   but    in    the 
Basileus  ?     It  is  just  here  that  we  see  the_value  of  J 
the  idea  of  kingship — of  a  sanctity  arising  from  I 
noble  descent,  in  the  discipline  of  peoples  who   are 
preparing  for    life  in   a   State.     The  kings  of  all 
degrees,  in  virtue  of  their  divine  ancestry  and  nurture, 
are  provided  with  judgments  or  dooms    by  Zeus, 
which  are  unquestioningly  accepted  by  the  people. 
These  judgments  (^e/^to-re?)  do  not  rest  upon  any- 
^  II.  ix.  632  ;  Od.  viii.  347. 


Ill  ITS  FIRST  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  73 

thing  which  we  can  call  law,  for  Homer  knew  no 
law,  and  has  no  word  for  it.  "  They  are  separate, 
isolated  judgments  not  connected  by  any  thread  of 
principle."  ^  Only  a  firm  belief  in  the  divine  source 
from  which  they  proceed  could  give  them  a  binding 
force  in  men's  eyes. 

It  is  true  that  the  greatest  Basileis  do  not  appear 
in  Homer  as  themselves  dispensing  justice.  It  is  the 
sages  of  the  council  who  sit  in  judgment,  as  in  the 
famous  picture  on  the  shield  of  Achilles.  But  the 
sanction  of  their  decision  was  no  doubt  the  same ; 
they  too  were  chiefs  of  less  degree,  and  enjoyed  the 
confidence  of  the  people  by  virtue  of  a  divine  descent. 
There  is  no  trace  in  Homer  of  any  decay  of  this 
confidence,  nor  of  the  growth  of  that  mistrust  which 
issues  eventually  in  a  demand  for  written  law. 
And  if  we  are  right  in  assuming  that  the  later 
Homeric  society  is  close  upon  the  beginning  of  the 
State,  we  shall  also  be  right  in  concluding  that  the 
State  sets  out  on  its  career  not  with  questioning 
but  with  trust ;  and  that  it  has  been  made  possible 
simply  because  men  have  shown  themselves  capable 
of  discipline,  ready  to  accept  a  divine  ordering  of 
society,  and  to  obey  those  whom  they  believe  to  be 
better  than  themselves. 

^  Maine,  Ancient  Law,  ch.  i.  p.  4.  Maine  perhaps  puts  this  a 
little  too  strongly  ;  for  there  is  a  Homeric  word  (St/cT?)  which  seems 
to  indicate  an  idea  of  tisage, — the  course  Avhich  the  gods  pointed 
out  and  which  the  people  would  accept ;  while  the  diixiare^  are 
dooms  which  at  once  create  this  usage  and  conform  to  it.  See 
Jebb,  Homer,  p.  48,  and  passages  there  quoted,  to  which  may  be 
added  II.  xvi.  387  foil.  ;  Od.  xiv.  83  ;  Hesiod,  Theogonia,  85,  and 
Works  and  Days,  9  and  215  foil. 


74  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


^  The  strength  of  the  earhest  monarchies  then,  so 

far  as  we  can  gather  from  Homer,  lay  in  no  clearly 
defined  powers  or  prerogatives,  for  definition  implies 
limitation,  and  the  Homeric  monarchy  knows  no 
such  thing,  either  as  securing  the  king's  power  or 
confining  it  within  certain  bounds.  It  lay  rather 
in  the  belief  that  the  good  relation  of  men  and  gods 
could  be  successfully  cared  for  by  those  only  with 
whose  families  the  knowledge  of  divine  things  was 
deposited ;  in  the  belief  that  men  of  noble  birth, 
and  therefore  as  a  rule  of  bodily  beauty  and  prowess, 
could  be  the  only  leaders  in  war ;  and  in  the  belief 
that  obedience  was  owing  to  these  in  all  questions 
between  man  and  man  in  time  of  peace,  because  it 
was  only  through  their  judgments  that  the  will  of 
Zeus  could  be  known.  These  three  aspects  of  a 
single  deeply-rooted  conception  lie  at  the  base  of 
all  ancient  aristocratic  government;  and  this  earliest 
monarchy,  as  we  said  just  now,  was  but  the  outward 
expression  of  a  truly  aristocratic  society.  If  we  now 
turnfor  a  moment  to  the  earliest  Eoman  constitution  of 
which  we  have  any  knowledge,  we  shall  find  a  marked 
'^  change  in  the  direction  of  definition  and  solidity. 
..^^^  --  11.  Of  the  kings  of  Eome  we  have  no  direct 
'7^""''^-Te©htemporary  evidence  ;  we  know  them  -only  from 

'  tradition,  and  from  the  traces  they  left  behind  them 
in  the  Eepublican  constitution  which  followed.  But 
the  "  method  of  survivals  "  has  here  been  applied  by  a 
master-hand ;  and  we  can  be  fairly  sure,  not  only  of 
the  fact  that  monarchy  actually  existed  at  Eome,  but 
even  of  some  at  least  of  its  leading  characteristics.^ 

^  See  Mommsen,  Staatsrecht,  ii.  pt.  i.  p.   3  foil.,  and   Roman 


Ill  ITS  FIRST  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  75 

Here  we  have  kingship  no  longer  denoting,  as  in 
Homer,  a  social  position  of  chieftaincy  which  bears 
with  it  certain  vaguely-conceived  prerogatives,  but 
a  clearly  defined'^  iimgistracy  within  the  fully  real-  Ix^ 
ised   State.     The    rights    and    duties    of   the  Eex    /  ' 
are  indeed  defined  by  no  documents,  and  the  spirit   / 
of  the  age  still  seems  to  be  obedience  and  trust ;  1  • 
but  we  also  find  the  marks  of  a  formal  customary 
procedure,  which  is  already  hardening  into  consti- 
tutional practice,  and  will  in  time  further  harden 
into  constitutional  law.     The  monarchy  has  ceased//^ 
to  be  hereditary,  if  it  ever  was  so  ;  and  the  method 
of  appointment,  though  we  are  uncertain  as  to  its  , 
exact  nature,  is  beyond  doubt  regulated  with  pre-^^^ 
cision,  and  expressed  in  technical  terms.     Let  us 
fix    our    attention  for  a  moment  on  one  of  these 
terms, — the  most  famous  of  them  all,  and  the  one 
which  best  exemplifies   that   stage  in  the   govern- 
ment of  the  City-State  which  the  Eoman  monarchy 
seems  to  represent. 

-The  functions  of  the  Eex  show  the  same  three  sides  r  2x 
as  those  of  the  Homeric  Basileus.      He  was  priest  for 
the  whole  people,  he  commanded  the  army  in  war^ 
and  he  dispensed  justice  at  home.      But  the  Eomans  7 
have  learni^to  sum  up  the  whole  of  this  power  in  \ 
one  technical  term  of  wonderful  force  and  meaning. 
This  word,  imperium,  introduces  us  at  once   to  a  1 
new  range  of  ideas,  which  we  may  call  political,  and  | 
which  belong  to  the  newly  realised  life  of  the  City- 
State.     Imperium  is  a  technical  term,  the  first  we 

History,  vol.  i.  p.  66.     Cf.  Prof.  Pelham's   article  "Roman  His- 
tory "  in  the  last  edition  of  the  Encyclopcedia  Britannica. 


76  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


meet  with  ;  for  there  is  no  Homeric  word  which  can 
be  regarded  as  such  politically.      It  marks  the  power 
of   the  king  as   distinguished   from  the  power  of 
the  head  of  a  family  or  a  village  community  ;   it 
expresses  the  supreme  power  of  the  chief  magis- 
trate   in    an    organised   State.       The   imperium    of 
I    the  Eex  was  technically  unlimited,  both  in   peace 
and    war ;    the    idea    of    State    authority    is    fully 
expressed  in    the   word,    and    had    therefore    been 
fully  realised.      All  power  exercised  by  any  indi- 
J  vidual    beside   the  Eex    is   delegated   to  its  holder 
«   by    the    Eex,  and  emanates  directly  from  his  im- 
.    perium.      To  him  alone  belonged  the  regal  insignia, 
/     and  above  all  the  rods  and  axes  carried  before  him, 
I       symbol   of  a   power  which  could   punish  the    dis- 
obedient with  instant  death.      And  this  power,  we 
\    must  notice,  was  not  his  by  hereditary  right,  but 
was  given  him  by  a  formal  vote  of  the  citizens ; 
whatever  might  be  the  mode  of  his  appointment  or 
election,  it  is  certain  that  he  only  became  supreme 
after  this   vote  had  been  passed.     Here,  then,  we 
plainly    have    a    fixed    constitution,    expressed    in 
formal  procedure  and  in  technical  terms ;  and  the 
leading  feature  of  it  is  the  concentration  of  political 
f  power  in  the  king,  and  the  remarkable   clearness 
with  which  that  power  is  conceived. 

But  all  this  was  by  no  means  incompatible  with 
a  customary  limitation  to  the  absolutism  of  the 
Eoman  king.  In  the  Eoman  mind  there  was  an 
instinct,  which  was  never  lost,  to  define,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  check  authority  ;  to  make  the 
clearness   of   legal    definition   itself  assist   the   in- 


Ill  ITS  FIEST  FORM  OF  GOVERXMEXT  77 

fluence  of  moral  limitation.      This  moral  limitation     ^ 
can  be  traced  very  plainly  as  acting  even  on  the 
He  is  expected  to  ask  advice,  and  probably 
also  to  take  it.      His  advising  body  was  the  Senate, 
the  equivalent  of  the  Homeric  ^epovaia,  of  which 
we  shall  have  more  to  say  presently ;  and  the  prin- 
ciple which  in  form,  if  not  always  in  fact,  governed 
the  Eoman  magistrate  for  ever  afterwards,  that  he 
should  not  act  without  the  advice  of  this  council, 
became   so   much   a   necessary  law  of  the   Eoman 
mind  that  we  may  be  certain  that  it  had  its  origin  t^ 
in  the  monarchy.     Again,  we  have  reason  to  believe 
that  in  the  trial  of  accused  persons  of  importance 
the  king  was  expected,  though  by  no  means  legally 
bound,  to  submitQie  question  of  life  and  death  to 
the  people  for  their  decision ;  if  this  be  so,  another 
great   principle  which  became   the   charter   of  re- 
publican liberty  as  the  jics^rovocationis,  a  right  of 
appeal  against  the  decision  of  the  magistrate,  also  \^ 
had  its  origin  in  the  moral  obligations  of  the  Eex.-^ 
/      In  the  Eoman  monarchy,  then,  we  see  the  earliest  ^ 
(/  form  of  State  governrdent  completely  and  judiciously 
/  developed.      Order  and   discipline,  so  necessary  to 
\  man  in  his  political  childhood,  are  there  represented  I 
by  the    technically   unlimited  power  of  the   Eex ;  J 
while  in  the  salutary  moral  obligations  which  the 
good    sense    of   the    people    has    imposed   on    this 
magistrate,    we    find    customary   rules    of    conduct  ^ 

^  Both,  these  principles  may  have  grown  out  of  germs  of  great 
antiquity,  and  were  not  the  peculiar  invention  of  the  Romans. 
But  it  is  not  given  to  every  people  to  fertilise  such  germs,  and  con- 
vert them  into  plain  and  formal  principles  of  constitutional  action. 


78  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

which  are  capable  of  growing  into  invaluable 
r  constitutional  principles.  Two  things  seem  neces- 
__^ary  to  a  young  State  which  is  to  have  a  great 
future, — the  full  realisation  of  authority  and  of  the 
obedience  due  to  it,  and  a  sense  of  the  moral  limits 
which  reason  sets  both  on  obedience  and  authority. 
Both  these  were  present  in  early  Eome,  as  in  early 
England. 

III.  The  third  form  of  monarchy  which  we  are  to 
consider  in  this  chapter  is  that  of  Sparta.  Of  the 
early  history  of  the  Spartan  kingship  we  know 
hardly  anything ;  but  as  a  late  and  most  curious 
survival  into  historical  times  it  well  repays  study. 
As  in  the  Homeric  Basileus  we  have  the  undefined 
stage  of  early  magisterial  authority,  and  in  the 
Roman  Eex  its  complete  and  defined  realisation,  so 
in  the  history  of  Spartan  kingship  in  the  sixth  and 
fifth  centuries  we  have  a  picture  of  the  way  in  which 
life  might  slowly  leave  an  old  and  valuable  institu- 
tion, while  its  venerable  framework  remained,  as 
much  respected  and  cherished  as  ever. 

The  Spartan  resembled  the  Roman  in  many 
ways,  and  one  of  them  was  the  tenacity  with  which 
he  clung  to  old  ideas  and  institutions.  When  the 
Romans  got  rid  of  their  kings  they  retained  not 
only  many  of  the  outward  signs  of  kingship,  but* 
also  the  imperium  itself — the  very  essence  of  the 
king's  magisterial  power.  The  Spartans,  on  the 
other  hand,  kept  the  kingship  throughout  their 
history,  but  allowed  it  by  slow  degrees  to  moulder 
away  into  a  picturesque  ruin.  The  explanation  of 
this  is  to  be  found  not  only  in  the  dual  form  of 


Ill  ITS  FIRST  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  79 

Spartan  kingship,  which  probably  weakened  it  from 
the  first,  but  in  the  radical  difference  between  the 
Greek   and   Italian  conception  of  monarchy.      At 
Sparta,  as  in  the  Homeric  age,  the  kings  were  of 
diivine  descent,  and  the  position  and  power  passed 
from  father  to  son ;   to  break  the  sacred  line  of  the 
J      children  of  Herakles  would  be  simply  to  make  light 
S      of  the  divine  ordering  of  things.      Just  as  the  Greek 
conceived  of  his  gods  as    bodily  j^resences    rather 
f       than  as  spiritual  essences,  so  it  was  the  personality 
*       'of  his  kings,  their  ancestr}"  and  breeding,  rather  than 
their  constitutional  powers,  which  filled  his  mind 
with  reverence.^     There  is  little  trace  of  this  feel- 
ing among  the  more   prosaic  Eomans.      They  did  j 
not  think  of  their  gods  as  beings  in  human  form ;  i 
nor  was  it  the  glory  of  the  person  or  the  family 
which  overawed  them.      As  it  was  the  power  of 
the  gods  and  their  use  of  it  which  conditioned  their 
religious   thoughts   and   acts,   so   it  was   the  king's 
power  and  his  use  of  it  on  which  they  fixed  their 
S^  ejBS_as_citizens.     Thus,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  next 
chapter,  they   could   abolish   the  king,   yet   retain 
his    imperium ;    while  at  Sparta  the   powers  were 
suffered  to  decay,  the  king  himself  remaining. 

At  Sparta  there  were  two  kingly  families,  and 
two  kings  with  equal  authority ;  and  however  this 
is  to  be  explained,  it  will  not  surprise  any  one  who 

^  This  is  curiously  illustrated  by  Herodotus's  account  of  the 
funeral  ceremonies  of  the  Spartan  kings  (vi.  58).  No  absolute 
monarch  could  be  the  subject  of  more  universal  lamentation,  how- 
ever formal  it  might  be  ;  yet  this  was  no  homage  rendered  to 
power. 


80  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

recalls  the  multiplicity  of  the  Homeric  kingship.^ 
The  division  of  sovereignty  probably  led  to  that 
period  of  distress  and  anarchy  which  is  the  one 
almost  certain  fact  of  the  earliest  Spartan  history ; 
and  the  result  was  a  reconstruction,  attributed  to 
Lycurgus,  at  a  date  which  may  be  assumed  to  be 
not  later  than  800  B.C.  This  must  have  been  the 
era  when  the  Spartan  institutions  were  fixed  on  a 
system  compatible  with  the  life  of  an  organised 
State,  and  is  at  the  same  time  the  point  from  which 
the  decay  of  the  kingly  power  may  be  traced. 

When  Herodotus,  who  had  himself  been  at 
Sparta,  described  the  duties  and  privileges  of  the 
Spartan  kings  as  they  existed  in  the  latter  half  of 
the  fifth  century,  the  monarchy  still  retained  the 
triple  powers  which  we  have  seen  outlined  in  the 
Homeric  poems,  and  gathered  into  a  single  concep- 
tion in  the  Eoman  kings.  It  will  be  as  well  to 
quote  the  very  words  of  Herodotus,  for  they  give 
us  a  life-like  picture  of  an  ancient  moss-grown 
monarchy.^ 

"  The  prerogatives  which  the  Spartans  have  allowed  their 
kings  are  the  following.  In  the  first  place,  two  priesthoods, 
those  of  Zeus  of  Lakedaimon  and  celestial  Zens  ;  also  the  right 
of  making  war  on  whatsoever  conntry  they  please,  without 
hindrance  from  any  of  the  other  Spartans  on  pain  of  exile  ; 
in  the  field  the  privilege  of  marching  first  in  the  advance  antl 
last  in  the  retreat,  and  of  having  a  hundred  picked  men  for  their. 

^  For  different  explanations  see  Abbott,  Hist,  of  Greece,  i.  206  ; 
and  for  further  detail  G.  Gilbert,  Griecli.  Alterthumer,  i.  p. 
4  foil. 

2  Hdt.  vi.  56,  Rawlinson's  translation. 


Ill  ITS  FIRST  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  81 

bodyguard  while  with  the  army  ;  likewise  the  liberty  of  sacri- 
ficing as  many  cattle  in  their  expeditions  as  seems  to  them 
good,  and  the  right  of  having  the  skins  and  chines  of  the 
slaughtered  animals  for  their  own  use. 

"  Such  are  their  privileges  in  war  ;  in  peace  their  rights 
are  as  follows.  When  a  citizen  makes  a  public  sacrifice,  the 
kings  are  given  the  first  seat  at  the  banquet ;  they  are  served 
before  any  of  the  other  guests,  and  have  a  double  portion  of 
everything.  They  lead  the  libations,  and  the  hides  of  the 
sacrificed  beasts  are  their  perquisite.  Every  month  on  the 
first  day,  and  again  on  the  seventh  of  the  first  decade,  each 
king  receives  a  beast  without  blemish  at  the  public  cost, 
which  he  offers  up  to  Apollo  ;  likewise  a  medimnus  of  meal, 
and  of  wine  a  Laconian  quart.  In  the  athletic  contests  they 
have  always  the  seat  of  honour;  they  appoint  the  citizens 
who  have  to  entertain  foreigners.  .  .  .  They  have  the  whole 
decision  of  certain  causes,,  which  are  these,  and  these  only  ; — 
When  a  maiden  is  left  the  heiress  of  her  father's  estate, 
and  has  not  been  betrothed  by  him  to  any  one,  they  decide 
who  is  to  marry  her  ;  in  all  matters  concerning  the  public 
highways,  they  are  judges  ;  and  if  a  person  wants  to  adopt 
a  child,  he  must  do  it  before  the  kings.  They  likewise 
have  the  right  of  sitting  in  council  with  the  twenty-eight 
senators  ;  and  if  they  are  not  present,  then  the  senators 
nearest  of  kin  to  them  have  their  privileges,  and  give  two 
votes*  as  representing  the  kings,  beside  their  own  as  coun- 
cillors." 

In  this  picture  we  see,  as  it  were,  an  ancient 
and  hallowed  building,  with  all  the  graceful  details 
of  its  architecture  still  preserved ;  a  building  which 
was  once  the  central  point  of  the  common  life  of  the 
State,  but  is  now  comparatively  little  used  except 
for  religious  purposes. 

The  king  is  here  still  high-priest  for  the  com- 
munity ;  but  his  priesthood  is  limited  to  two  special 
worships.     The  religious  system  has  been  organised 


82  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

SO  as  to  suit  the  needs  of  a  City-State,  and  the 
various  worships  have  their  appointed  priests.  And 
those  which  the  kings  hold,  they  hold,  not  like  the 
Homeric  Basileus,  as  part  of  an  undefined  Tifjurj,  but 
as  ^epa,  i.e.  privileges  specially  reserved  to  them. 
So  it  is  also  with  the  administration  of  justice.  In 
jurisdiction  Herodotus  mentions  but  two  kinds  of 
suits  which  came  to  them  for  decision,  and  both  are 
of  a  special  and  limited  character — the  one  relating 
to  certain  contingencies  in  the  devolution  of  pro- 
perty, and  the  other  to  the  maintenance  of  the 
public  roads.  In  cases  of  bloodshed  the  kings 
shared  jurisdiction  with  the  Gerousia,  and  all  ordi- 
nary disputes  seem  to  have  been  decided  by  the 
Ephors,  i.e.  by  magistrates  of  later  origin  than  the 
City-State  itself.^  Only  in  war,  i.e.  outside  of  the 
ordinary  range  of  State-life,  does  the  Spartan  king 
still  seem  to  be  supreme,  and  even  here  he  is 
beginning  to  be  mistrusted.  As  early  as  the  end 
of  the  sixth  century  B.C.  Cleomenes  I.,  the  most 
original  and  remarkable  of  all  the  .Spartan  Mngs, 
was  brought  to  trial  for  alleged  misconduct ;  and 
several  other  instances,  both  of  trial  and  punish- 
ment, are  recorded  in  the  two  following  centuries.^ 
Being  thus  made  responsible  for  their  conduct  in 
war,  they  gradually  lost  the  essential  part  of  those 
military  prerogatives  which  Herodotus  describes.  In 
the  fourth  century  B.C.  they  were  little  more  than 
nominal  kings,  while  the  Ephors,  an  elected  board 

^  Aristotle,  Politics,  iii.  1,  10  ;  1275  B. 
2  Thiicyd.  V.  63  ;  Hdt.  vi.  72  and  82. 


Ill  ITS  FIRST  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  83 

of  five,  whose  powers  were  not  defined  by  ancient 
and  hallowed  custom,  and  could  therefore  be  easily 
extended  as  convenience  or  necessity  suggested, 
raised  their  authority  to  such  a  pitch  that  Plato 
could  describe  it  as  "exceedingly  like  that  of  a 
tyrant."  ^ 

We  need  not  here  enter  into  the  question  how 
all  this  change  was  brought  about,-  nor  does  it 
belong  to  the  scope  of  this  chapter.  Spartan 
history  is  extremely  obscure,  and  we  know  neither 
details  nor  dates  of  the  rise  and  progress  of  the 
Ephorate ;  nor  can  we  certainly  discover  how  far 
the  other  elements  in  the  constitution,  the  Gerousia 
and  the  Assembly  of  the  people  (apella),  also  had  a 
share  in  trenching  on  the  original  prerogatives  of 
the  kings.  Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  a 
monarchy  might  survive  in  a  State  of  conservative 
tendencies  long  after  kingship  had  disappeared  both 
from  Greece  and  Italy,  but  that  it  survived  in  out- 
ward form  rather  than  in  reality,  still  bearing 
unmistakably  the  signs  of  its  origin  in  the  heroic 
age,  yet  ceasing  gradually  to  do  the  work  of  an 
effective  State -magistracy. 

But  Sparta  in  this,  as  in  many  other  ways, 
stands  alone  in  the  history  of  the  City  -  State. 
She  never  was  a  pioneer  in  political  develop- 
ment. Shut  away  in  her  "  hollow "  valley  among 
the  mountains,  she  did  not  feel  the  influences 
which,  from  the  eighth  century  onwards,  began  in 
the  rest  of  Greece  to   change  the  simple  form  of 

1  Plato,  Laws,  iv.  712  D. 


84  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP.  IH 

^  T. 

society  whicli  made  kingship  possible  and  salutary ; 
or  if  she  felt  them,  she  took  her  own  way  in 
responding  to  them.  Those  influences,  and  the 
changes  they  brought  about,  are  now  to  be  con- 
S'idered  in  the  next  chapter. 


*Ss 


CHAPTEE    IV 

THE    RISE    OF    ARISTOCRATIC    GOVERNMENT 

In  the  earliest  form  of  the  City-State  there  were  j 
three    prominent    factors.      First,    the    king,    with  /   ^ 
-his  three  functions,  religiojus^  military,  and  judicial ;  1 
his  powers  resting  not  on  written  law,  but  on  cus- 
tom, and  constituting  no  real  absolutism,  but  being 
apt  to  gain  in  strength  as  custom  hardened,  provided 
that  the  kings  themselves  and  their  families  were 
equal   to  the   task   of  maintaining    their    prestige, 
^condly,  the  lesser  chieftains,  who  in   their  own 
domain   were   probably  quite   independent    of   the  ' "~ 
king,  like    the    feudal    lords    of   the   middle  ages.  , 
These  acted  as  the   advising  council   of  the  king, 
whose  influence  became  stronger  or  weaker  accord- 
ing as  he  was  of  a  character  to  need  help  or  to 
dispense  with  it.  ^  Thirdly,  the  people,  i.e,  all  those 
who  did  not  belong  to  the  families  of  any  of  these        ^ 
powerful  chiefs,  and  could  boast  of  no  divine  descent, 
nor  of  any  large  estates,  but  in  time  of  peace  went 
about  their  daily  work  as  husbandmen  or  artisans, 
and  served  on  foot  in  time  of  war.     Of  the  people 


0 


86  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

we  shall  speak  more  fully  later  on.  But  we  may 
pause  for  a  moment  here  to  point  out  that  in  these 
three  factors  of  the  earliest  State  we  see,  in  embryo, 
all  possible  forms  of  constitution.  In  all  govern- 
"ments  the  sovereignty  must  be  either  in  the  hands 
of  one,  or  of  few,  or  of  the  many  ;  it  must  be  either 
monarchical,  or  aristocratic,  or  democratic.  Each  of 
these  three  forms  of  constitution  may  indeed  take  a 
different  colouring,  as,  according  to  Aristotle's  doc- 
trine,^ monarchy  may  become  tyranny,  aristocracy 
may,  and  indeed  always  did,  pass  into  oligarchy, 
and  democracy  in  the  best  sense  may  become 
democracy  in  the  worst  sense,  or,  as  Polybius  styles 
it,  government  by  the  mob.  Or  there  may  be 
transitional  forms,  such  as  are  often  called  "  mixed  " 
constitutions,  in  which,  for  example,  as  at  Athens 
after  Solon,  the  political  privileges  of  the  few  were 
being  gradually  extended  to  the  many ;  or  as  at 
Sparta,  where  we  saw  that  during  a  long  period  the 
monarchy  continued  to  survive  alongside  both  of 
oligarchic  and  democratic  elements.  But  in  all 
cases,  whether  the  constitution  be  natural,  or 
iebased,  or  transitional,  it  can  always  be  traced 
oack  to  one  or  other  of  these  social  facts  which 
meet  us  at  the  very  outset  of  our  study  of  the  City- 
State.  Even  tyranny,  which  will  at  first  sight 
appear  to  have  no  direct  connection  with  early 
forms  of  monarchy,  was  really  only  a  reaction 
towards  a  traditional  concentration  of  authority, 
brought  about  by  the  many,  as  suiting  them  better 
than  the  rule  of  the  few.     The  social  predominance 

^  Fol.  iii.  iSfin.  and  7  ;  1279  A.     Cf.  Polybius,  vi.  4,  6. 


IV  RISE  OF  AEISTOCRATIC  GOVERNMENT  87 

of  one  family,  or  of  a  few,  or  of  many, — such  is  the 
simplest  way  of  expressing  the  long  series  of  changes 
in  constitutional  form  which  we  have  to  trace ;  and 
looking  forward  from  the  age  of  monarchy  we  can 
guess  without  much  difficulty  how  such  changes 
would  be  likely  to  run. 

We  might  naturally  suppose  that  if  the  monarchies 
gave  way  at  all,  they  would  give  way,  not  to  the 
people,  who  had  neither  knowledge,  experience,  pro- 
perty, renown^  or  high  descent,  but  to  those  noble 
families  who  surrounded  the  king,  supplied  him 
with  advisers,  and  were  on  the  same  social  level 
as  his  own  family.  And  so  it  was.  Universal 
tradition,  both  in  Greece  and  Italy,  told  of  the 
displacement  of  the  kings  by  these  noble  families, 
and  of  a  long  period  of  aristocratic  government 
which  followed.  When  history  really  begins  in 
Greece  and  Italy,  hardly  a  single  kingship  of  the 
old  type  is  to  be  found. ^ 

Of  the  immediate  causes  of  this  universal  change 
we  have  scarcely  any  positive  knowledge,  and  we 
may  be  fairly  sure  that  ancient  writers  had  no 
more  than  we  have.  Aristotle,  in  mentioning 
it,  writes  in  quite  general  terms,  and  does  not,  as 
his  habit  is,  quote  examples  to  support  what  he 
tells  US.2  The  causes  that  he  suggests  are  disagree- 
ment among  the  members  of  the  kingly  house,  and 
a  tendency  to  arbitrary  government  by  the  kings 

^  In  otlier  Italian  towns  besides  Rome  we  know  nothing  of  the 
change  ;  but  that  it  took  place  is  almost  certain.  See  Mommsen, 
Hist,  of  Rome,  i.  255. 

2  Polities,  1313  A. 


88  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

themselves,  such  as  would  be  likely  to  break  into 
the  traditional  and  willing  acceptance  of  monarchy 
as  a  natural  and  inevitable  institution.  This  is 
no  more  than  we  might  have  guessed  for  our- 
selves. Weakness  arising  from  whatever  cause — 
disunion  or  other, — and  on  the  other  hand  ambition 
and  arbitrary  use  of  power,  are  the  causes  which 
have  throughout  all  history  been  apt  to  destroy  not 
only  monarchies,  but  all  governments.  And  when 
the  monarch  is  but  the  chief  among  a  number  of 
lesser  potentates,  it  is  easy  enough  to  guess  not 
only  at  the  causes  but  at  the  results  of  revolutions 
which  have  at  least  much  apparent  resemblance  to 
those  of  the  early  modern  State. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  said  that  we  have  at  least  one 
glimpse  of  a  monarchy  on  the  point  of  falling  to 
pieces, — though  even  that  glimpse  is  one  into  a 
region  that  is  mythical  and  misty.  Odysseus  was 
king  in  Ithaca  ;  and  during  his  twenty  years'  absence 
his  kingship  barely  survives  the  attacks  made  upon 
it  by  the  aristocracy  of  the  island,  the  lesser  ^aaCkeh. 
There  seems  to  be  indeed  no  idea  of  abolishing 
monarchy  as  an  institution.  Telemachus  assumes 
that  some  one  will  be  king,  even  if  it  be  not  one  of 
the  true  kingly  family.^  "There  are  many  other 
chiefs  of  the  Achseans  in  sea-girt  Ithaca — kings 
young  and  old;  some  one  of  them  shall  surely 
have  this  kingship  since  goodly  Odysseus  is  dead." 
But  if  the  tingship  be  removed  from  the  family 
which  has  so  far  held  it,  the  first  step  is  taken 
towards  its  destruction ;  and  Antinous  says  angrily 

^  Od.  i.  394  ;  Butcher  and  Lang's  translation. 


IV  RISE  OF  ARISTOCRATIC  GOVERNMENT  89 

to  young  Telemachus,  "  !N'ever  may  Cronion  make 
thee  king  in  sea-girt  Ithaca,  which  thing  is  of 
inheritance  thy  right !  "  -^  And  Eurymachus,  in 
kinder  tone,  tells  him  that  though  it  is  unjust  for 
the  lords  to  devour  the  substance  of  Odysseus,  yet 
"it  lies  on  the  knees  of  the  gods  what  man  is  to 
be  king  over  the  Achseans  in  sea-girt  Ithaca."  And 
in  the  assembly  which  follows  in  book  ii.,  where 
Telemachus  seems  to  appeal  to  the  "  folk  "  for  help 
against  the  lords  who  are  living  on  his  substance 
and  wooing  his  mother,  he  shows  weakness  himself, 
and  can  get  no  support  from  the  people.^  Ithaca 
is  in  confusion ;  there  seems  to  be  no  hope  for  the 
house  of  Odysseus ;  the  heir  can  hardly  procure  the 
ship  to  carry  him  to  Pylos  to  seek  for  news  of  his 
father. 

The  Odyssey  is  in  great  part  ancient  myth  and 
folk-tale ;  but  these  first  two  books  contain  no  such 
element.  They  are  clearly  a  picture, — a  fancy 
picture  it  may  be, — of  such  confusion  as  might 
have  arisen  in  any  monarchy  about  the  time  when 
the  Odyssey  took  its  present  shape.  War  might 
strengthen  a  king's  hands  if  he  returned  successful, 
but  it  might  also  shake  his  house  to  its  foundations 
if  he  never  returned  at  all.  The  plot  of  the  Odyssey 
brings  the  king  home  at  last  to  wreak  vengeance  on 
the  traitor  lords,  and  we  can  imagine  his  power 
thereby  greatly  increased  and  handed  down  intact 
to  his  son.^    But  in  many  a  case  the  king  may  never 

1  Od.  i.  386.  2  7j^  jj.  1.320. 

^  It  is  to  be  noticed  that  when  Odysseus  finally  recovers  the 
kingship,  it  is  confirmed  to  him  by  a  "covenant  with  sacrifice" 


90  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

have  returned,  or  from  some  other  cause  his  family 
may  have  given  way  before  the  aspiring  chiefs,  and 
the  kingship,  if  not  yet  destroyed,  must  have  passed 
out  of  the  house  which  had  long  held  it,  and  so  have 
lost  its  oldest  traditional  claim  to  loyalty. 

But  the  Homeric  poems,  as  we  saw  in  the  last 
chapter,  seem  to  point  to  a  time  when  the  City- 
State  was  not  yet  fully  formed,  but  rather  in  pro- 
cess of  formation.  The  picture  of  Telemachus  and 
the  suitors  hardly  helps  us  to  understand  why  a 
monarchy  which  had  become  hardened  by  usage,  as 
at  Eome,  into  something  resembling  a  constitution, 
should  have  easily  given  way  to  aristocracy,  and 
why  this  revolution  should  have  been  so  universal. 
Historians,  in  default  of  positive  knowledge,  are 
at  pains  to  bring  forward  explanations  a  priori. 
Grote,  for  example,  and  Montesquieu  before  him, 
observed  that  monarchies  are  apt  to  last  longer  in 
large  territorial  States,  while  small  States,  like  the 
Greek  and  the  later  Italian  republics,  seem  naturally 
to  develop  an  aristocratic  or  democratic  constitu- 
tion.^   The  observation  is  a  just  one,  and  the  reasons 

^  given  in  support  of  it  are  also  worth  attention.    The^ 

*y  smaller  the  State,  and  the  more  distinctly  its  lifei 
is  centred  in  a  city,  the  more  obvious  will  the* 
king's  shortcomings  be  to  the  eye  of  his  rivals  and 
of  the  people.  The  monarchy  of  a  mediaeval  State 
was  hardly  an  object  of  criticism,  even  to  the  great 
lords  who  surrounded  it,  except  when  it  impinged 

{Od.  xxiv.    483,  546),  an   artificial  prop  wliicli  can   hardly  have 
existed  in  the  earliest  and  most  natural  form  of  kingship. 
^  Grote,  Hist,  of  Greece,  vol.  ii.  ch.  ix. 


\y 


IV  EISE  OF  ARISTOCRATIC  GOVERNMENT  91 

too  closely  on  their  traditional  rights  ;  and  even  then 
concerted  action  against  it  was  not  easy  to  organise. 
The  mass  of  the  people  had  very  little  knowledge  of  it, 
and  accepted  it,  as  they  for  the  most  part  accept  it 
still,  without  a  hostile  thought.  Only  in  great 
capital  cities,  such  as  London  or  Paris,  where  the 
misdeeds  of  a  monarch  are  obvious,  and  where  dis- 
content can  easily  gather  and  grow  to  a  head,  have 
violent  anti-monarchical  outbreaks  found  place  in  / 
modern  times.      The  inference  seems  to  be  a  safe  \ 

one  that  when  a  State  is  practically  a  city,  and  not    | 

a  large  territory,  the  traditional  institution  of  king-  j 
ship,  with  which  political  history  seems  everywhere 
to  begin,  is  almost  sure  to  be  comparatively  short- 
lived. The  weakness  or  cruelty  of  a  king,  or  a 
kingly  family,  would  in  a  City-State  be  known  and 
felt  by  all,  and  would  be  inevitably  brought  to  an 
end,  whether  by  sudden  revolution  or  by  gradual 
process.  Thus  the  small  size  of  the  Greek  State, 
which  has  been  so  often  called  in  as  an  explanation 
of  the  phenomena  of  its  history,  or  more  truly  indeed 
its  peculiar  nature  as  a  City- State,  is  almost  the 
only  certain  fact  to  which  we  can  have  recourse  in 
order  to  account  for  this  universal  change  from  ^^ 
monarchy  to  aristocracy. 

But  there  is  another  consideration  which  calls 
for  attention  before  we  go  farther.  It  has  already 
been  said  that  monarchy  was  in  one  sense  only  a 
form  of  aristocracy ;  and  the  meaning  of  this  dictum 
would  seem  to  be  that  monarchy,  though  found 
everywhere  in  the  world,  does  not  everywhere  of 
itself  serve  as  an  adequate  political  expression  for 


92  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

a  certain  social  condition.  It  is,  in  fact,  in  one 
sense  a  less  natural  form  of  constitution  than  either 
aristocracy  or  democracy.  Each  of  these  is  the 
direct  and  natural  political  expression  of  a  state  of 
society.  If  the  rich  or  the  well-born  exercise  a  pre- 
dominant influence  in  a  State,  the  resulting  political 
form  is  aristocracy  or  oligarchy ;  if  the  poor  or 
the  low-born  carry  the  full  weight  which  their 
numbers  would  naturally  bring  them,  the  resulting 
political  form  is  democracy.  But  of  what  is 
monarchy  the  political  expression  ?  Neither  in  an 
aristocratic  nor  in  a  democratic  state  of  society  is 
monarchy  entirely  secure,  because  it  cannot  fully 
represent  the  needs,  the  feelings,  or  the  prejudices 
of  that  society.  When,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  next 
chapter,  it  was  called  in  to  lead  the  first  popular 
impulse  in  the  cities  of  the  Greek  world,  it  was 
speedily  rejected  as  soon  as  that  work  of  leadership, 
was  accomplished — the  Greek  tyrannies  were  pro- 
verbially of  short  duration.  And  in  the  age  of 
which  we  are  now  speaking,  where  it  existed  in 
an  aristocratic  society,  though  much  longer  lived, 
it  could  not  be  permanent,  simply  because  it  re- 
presented that  society  ever  more  and  more  in- 
adequately. 

i^  All  history  teaches  us  that  aristocracies  have  a 
strong  tendency  to  grow  steadily  narrower;  that 
their  sentiment  and  privilege  alike  increase  in 
strength  with  time.  Now  a  monarchy  may  serve 
fairly  well  as  the  political  expression  of  an  aristo- 
cratic society,  but  the  narrower  and  more  prejudiced 
that  society  grows,  the  less  chance  will  the  monarchy 


IV  RISE  OF  ARISTOCRATIC  GOVERNMENT  93 

have  of  surviving.  The  king  may  even  be  forced 
out  of  sympathy  with  the  class  to  which  he  naturally 
belongs,  and  into  more  intimate  relation  with  the 
poorer  and  unprivileged  classes.  If  then  we  can 
show  that  the  Greek  aristocracies  had  a  tendency 
to  grow  narrower,  and  that  the  facts  and  ideas  on 
which  their  predominance  rested  were  such  as  might 
easily  increase  this  tendency,  we  shall  at  once  have 
an  explanation  of  the  decay  of  monarchy,  even  if 
we  cannot  trace  the  causes  of  decadence  within  the 
monarchy  itself.  And  at  the  same  time  we  shall 
be  providing  ourselves  with  some  account,  imperfect 
though  it  be,  of  the  characteristics  of  the  aristo- 
cracies we  are  concerned  with.  Then  we  may  pass 
on  to  consider  the  few  known  facts  as  to  the  method 
by  which  the  destruction  of  monarchy  was  brought 
about. 

^Aristocracy  literally  means  the  rule  of  the  best. 

But  in  what  sense  of  the  word  "  best "  did  the 
Greeks  use  their  word  dpLcjTo/cparLa,  and  by  what 
standard  did  they  estimate  the  class  which  dis- 
placed the  early  kings  ?  Aristotle,  whose  know- 
ledge of  the  early  aristocracies  was  certainly  not 
large,  writes  as  if  he  thought  that  the  rule  of  the 
"  best "  were  an  ideal  which  had  never  been  attained 
to  in  Greece,  and  warns  his  pupils  not  to  fall  into 
the  popular  error  of  confusing  it  with  the  oligarch- 
ical forms  of  government  prevalent  in  his  own 
day.^     He  thus  attaches  a  distinctly  ethical  meaning 

^  Politics,  1293  B.  He  is  ready,  however,  to  use  the  word 
dpiaTOKparia  in  a-  modified  sense  for  a  very  few  mixed  constitu- 
tions, such  as  that  of  Carthage.     See  Newman,  i.  497.     To  the 


94  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

to  the  word  "  best,"  and  seems  to  contrast  the  virtue 
of  the  true  aristocratic  ruler  with  the  wealth  of  the 
oligarch.  But  was  he  right  in  his  belief  that  the 
government  of  the  test  had  never  been  realised  ? 

Undoubtedly  the  Greek  aristocracies,  like  all 
modern  ones,  did  not  owe  their  political  power 
simply  to  superior  moral  qualities.  They  obtained 
it  as  the  result  of  certain  advantages  which  they 
possessed,  of  which  the  chief  were  wealth  and  high 
descent.  But  we  can  hardly  be  wrong  in  believing 
that  the  excellence  {aperr})  which  they  claimed  for 
themselves — a  claim  which  survived  into  much  later 
times  in  the  expressions  koXoI  KayaOoX,  iirLeiKel<;, 
'yvwpLfjbOi,  etc.,  applied  to  oligarchs  who  did  not 
merit  them — -had  at  one  time  had  a  real  existence. 
We  must  indeed,  in  order  to  understand  what  it 
was  that  they  claimed,  get  rid  for  the  moment  of 
much  of  our  modern  notions  of  virtue  or  goodness ; 
but  there  will  still  remain  an  element  of  ethical 
superiority  which  we  may  predicate  of  this  nobility 
without  misgiving.  With  them,  so  far  as  we  can 
see,  began  the  idea,  so  fruitful  afterwards  for  Greek 
civilisation,  that  the  mind  and  the  body  alike  of 
each  individual  should  be  cultivated  to  the  utmost 
for  the  benefit  of  the  State.  Here,  if  anywhere, 
we  must  look  for  the  origin  in  Greece  of  the  culti- 
vation of  the  beautiful,  in  the  human  body,  in  the 
products  of  art,  and,  to  some  extent  at  least,  in 
conduct  too ;  and  at  Eome  for  the  beginning  of  the 

word  dXiyapx^a-  Aristotle  attaches  the  meaning,  usual  in  Greece, 
of  government  by  a  few  families,  distinguished  not  by  excellence 
but  by  wealth. 


IV  RISE  OF  ARISTOCRATIC  GOVERNMENT  95 

idea  of  duty,  as  extending  beyond  the  family  to  the 
State.  Naturally,  application  of  this  idea  was  limited 
to  the  members  of  their  own  class,  from  a  deeply- 
rooted  conviction  that  all  others  were  not  worth 
the  cultivation,  and  could  not  repay  it  by  any  valu- 
able results ;  these  were  in  no  true  sense  a  part  of 
the  State,  but  only,  as  it  were,  the  natural  append- 
ages of  it,  whose  destiny  was  to  do  the  necessary 
and  inferior  work  without  which  it  could  not  exist. 
But  they  themselves,  the  nobles,  were  the  real  men 
of  the  State  ;  on  them  devolved  all  its  higher  duties ; 
and  if  in  the  early  life  of  the  City-State  these  nobles 
really  worked  out  an  idea  of  public  duty  which  first 
made  the  position  of  the  citizen  an  honourable  and 
arduous  one,  they  made  a  discovery  for  which  the 
later  Greeks  and  Eomans  might  well  have  been 
more  thankful  than  they  were. 

And  we  may  reasonably  believe  that  this  dis- 
covery was  really  theirs,  though  we  have  little 
positive  evidence  of  it.  When  history  opens,  the 
aristocracies  were  indeed  a  thing  of  the  past,  but 
the  idea  of  the  good  citizen  was  there,  and  can 
only  be  due  to  their  influence.  The  passionate  V 
lamentations  of  Theognis  over  the  overthrow  of  the 
"  good  men "  in  his  own  city  carry  us  back  in 
imagination  to  a  time  when  Megara  was  not  yet 
governed  by  a  narrow  oligarchy,  but  by  a  nobility 
which  was  really  excellent,  as  well  as  rich  and 
high-born,  and  was  bent  on  developing  all  its  y 
best  powers,  bodily  and  mental,  for  the  good  of 
the  whole  community.  Even  as  late  as  the  fifth 
century  the  same  idea  is  seen  in  the  Odes  of  Pindar, 


96  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


commemorating  the  deeds  as  well  as  the  high  de- 
scent of  men  who  had  brought  renown  to  their 
cities.  And  a  century  later  still,  the  reflection  of 
it  may  be  caught  in  the  writings  of  Plato  and 
Aristotle,  the  central  feature  of  whose  political 
teaching  is  that  a  man's  duty  to  his  State  can  only 
be  performed  at  the  best  when  he  has  fully  and 
rationally  developed  all  his  mental  and  bodily 
capacities.  Such  an  ideal  could  never  have  been 
formulated  by  the  philosophers,  if  it  had  not  been 
already  existent  in  the  spirit  of  the  best  Greek  life. 
And  we  may  be  fairly  sure  that  it  originated,  not 
with  oligarchy,  or  tyranny,  or  democracy,  but  in  an 
age  preceding  them  all ;  in  an  age  when  it  was 
possible,  to  use  the  language  of  Prof.  Duncker,-^  for 
the  ideal  of  life  and  conduct  to  be  realised  in  the 
man  "  capable  in  body  and  mind,  strong  and  agile 
in  limb,  brave  in  fight,  free  from  personal  greed, 
"jealous  for  the  general  good."     It  was  the  Greek 

\,^  nobles,  then,  who  first  recognised  the  true  nature 
of  the  State,  and  of  its  infinite  capacity  for  en- 
nobling man ;  they  realised  "  the  good  life "  (to  ev 
^7jv)  of  the  citizen  in  contrast  to  the  mere  life  (to 

\/  ^rjv)  of  the  village  community.  With  them  begins 
the  development  of  art  and  poetry,  of  education 
and  discipline,  of  law  and  public  order,  in  im- 
mediate and  healthy  relation  to  the  State  and  its 
needs.  And  in  a  different  way  th^  Eoman  aristo- 
cracy too,  though  narrower  and  less  gifted  than  the 
Greek,  had  its  own  unconscious  ideal,  and  its  own 
peculiar  "  virtus " ;  to  them  and  them  alone  were 
1  Hist,  of  Greece,  ii.  307  (Eng.  trans.) ;  cf.  p.  214  foil. 


IV  KISE  OF  AKISTOCEATIC  GOVERNMENT  97 

due  the  habits  of  discipline  and  self-sacrifice  for  the 
good  of  the  State,  and  the  ideas  of  self-respect  and 
of  duty  correlated  with  wealth  and  station,  which 
forced  on  all  Eomans  such  a  vivid  conception  of 
the  nature  of  citizenship,  and  enabled  them  to  sur- 
vive so  many  fierce  struggles  for  existence. 

An  aristocratic  class  of  this  kind,  in  whose 
bringing  up  the  self-regarding  instincts  were  only 
so  far  encouraged  as  they  might  contribute  to  the 
common  good  of  the  youthful  State,  might  co-exist 
with  a  monarchy,  and  probably  did  so  for  many 
generations.  There  was  no  natural  antagonism  be- 
tween their  interests  and  those  of  a  kingly  family 
which  was  only  the  first  among  many.  But  their 
aperrj,  that  combination  of  self-respect  with  devo- 
tion to  the  State  which  we  have  been  describing, 
was  the  indirect  result  of  two  advantages  which  in 
themselves  constituted  no  virtue — the  pride  of  a 
noble  descent,  and  the  possession  of  wealth,  especi- 
ally in  land.  Birth  and  wealth  alike  may  call  for 
self-respect,  for  courage,  and  for  public  spirit,  in 
those  who  possess  them,  and  the  call  may  be  re- 
sponded to ;  the  noble  may  be  and  should  be  worthy 
of  his  ancestry,  and  the  rich  man  worthy  of  his 
wealth ;  but  in  each  of  these  advantages  there  is 
always  a  certain  poison  hidden,  which  is  apt  to 
deaden  the  force  of  its  claim  for  virtue.  An  honest 
family  pride  may  degenerate  into  mere  exclusive- 
ness,  and  wealth  may  too  easily  become  an  object 
for  its  own  sake.  Some  such  subtle  process  must 
have  been  at  work  in  the  aristocracies  of  the  young 
City-State,  gradually  narrowing  their  ideas  and  in- 

H 


98  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

terests,  and  bringing  them  into  antagonism,  perhaps 
almost  at  the  same  time,  with  the  kingly  family  as 
well  as  with  the  unprivileged  masses.  Let  us  see 
how  it  might  have  acted. 

- 17  We  saw  that  the  Homeric  chieftains  believed 

themselves  to  be  StoyeveU — of  divine  descent ;  and 
this  idea  was  kept  up  for  centuries  by  the  great 
families  in  most  Greek  States.  Even  in  democratic 
Athens  Alcibiades  could  boast  to  his  teacher  Socrates 
that  he  was  descended  from  Zeus,  and  in  other  States 
examples  are  abundant.^  At  Eome  too  the  same 
boast  could  be  made ;  the  Julii,  e.g.,  were  descended 
from  Venus  and  Anchises.  Thus  the  claim  of  high 
birth  was  a  much  more  powerful  one  than  it  has 
ever  been  in  England,  or  even  in  France.  But 
there  was  another  and  yet  stronger  reason  why  in 
the  City-State  these  families  should  tend  to  become 
peculiarly  exclusive.  Let  us  recall  the  fact  that 
the  State  had  grown  out  of  smaller  communities, 
which  survived  within  it  as  ge7ites  or  yivr],  each  a 
close  corporation,  with  its  own  religious  rites,  its 
own  government  within  the  State,  its  own  traditions 
and  prejudices.  Whether  these  corporations  consisted 
entirely,  as  at  Eome,  of  patrician  families,  or  included 
others  belonging  to  the  lower  population,  as  was  prob- 
ably the  case  at  Athens,  they  were  always  strongholds 
of  an  exclusive  nobility.  To  marry  outside  the  circle 
of  this  nobility  was  a  desecration  of  the  sacred 
rites  and  traditions  of  the  noble  family  or  gens,  and 
continued  to  be  thought  so  long  after  those  outside 

^  See  Schomann,  Political  Antiquities  of  Ch-eece  (Eiig.  trans.), 
p.  124. 


IV  EISE  OF  ARISTOCEATIC  GOVERNMENT  99 

it  had  begun  to  force  tlieir  way  within  the  pale/ 
Thus  it  is  easy  to  see  how  the  honourable  pride  of 
a  noble  descent,  which  for  a  while  might  help  to 
engender  the  first  feelings  of  duty  to  self  and  state, 
might  also  in  course  of  time,  under  the  continued 
influence  of  these  groups  of  kin,  serve  to  cherish 
and  increase  a  spirit  of  exclusiveness.  If  a  family 
grew  weak  or  threatened  to  die  out,  there  was  no 
possibility  of  recruiting  it  from  the  class  below, — 
a  process  which  has  always  been  the  safeguard  of 
our  English  nobility  ;2  it  might  be  kept  alive  by 
intermarriage  within  the  class  to  which  it  belonged, 
but  by  no  fresh  blood  imported  from  the  lower 
orders.  At  the  very  time  when  the  noblest  qualities 
of  mind  and  body  were  being  cultivated  for  the 
good  of  the  State  and  the  service  of  its  king,  these 
same  qualities  were  beginning  to  be  regarded  more 
distinctly  as  the  exclusive  property  of  the  members 
of  the  groups  of  ancient  kin ;  while  as  the  outside 
population  increased  in  numbers,  or  the  king  in- 
creased his  power,  these  groups  were  more  and 
more  brought  into  mutual  alliance  in  opposition 
both  to  monarch  and  to  people.  This  is  the  first 
illustration  we  meet  with  of  the  surviving  power  of 
the  kinship  groups  in  the  city  of  which  they  were 
the  original  constituent  elements ;   and  it  is  most 

^  Schomann,  p.  125,  notes  that  in  Greece  such  intermarriage 
was  not  strictly  illegal ;  but  in  early  times  it  must  have  been 
practically  so.  At  Rome  it  had  eventually  to  be  sanctioned  by 
law,  Avhich  is  proof  that  custom  had  previously  rigidly  forbidden 
it.     See  Livy,  iv.  1-6. 

2  See  e.g.  Boutmy  English  Constitution  (Eng.  trans.),  p.  108 
foil. 


100  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

important  to  bear   it   in   mind   as  we   pursue  the 
history  of  the  City-State. 

, ^       2.  Besides  noble  descent,  the  chief  characteristic 

~y  of  these  aristocracies  was  wealth,  and  chiefly  wealth 
7  in  land.  The  Homeric  chieftains  are  all  land- 
holders ;  so  were  the  patricians  of  Eome,  and  so 
also  the  aristocracy  of  Athens  when  first  we  catch 
a  glimpse  of  it.  Land  was  almost  the  sole  source 
of  wealth  in  the  economy  of  the  early  State,  and 
wealth  was  reckoned  by  the  flocks  and  herds  which 
the  land  supported.  The  Greek  aristocracy,  and 
perhaps  originally  the  Eoman  too,  were  distin- 
guished in  war  from  the  lower  population  by  the 
fact  that  they  were  able  to  supply  themselves  with 
horses,  like  the  chivalry  of  the  middle  ages,  while 
the  "people,"  if  they  served  at  all,  served  only  on 
foot."^  This  was  the  result  of  the  possession  of  large 
estates,  which  would  enable  them  to  indulge  in  the 
rich  man's  occupation  of  horse-breeding.  Another 
result  no  doubt  was  that  they  were  able  to  let  or 
to  give  land  to  their  inferiors,  and  to  supply  them 
with  stock  for  it — a  practice  common  to  aristocracies 
at  all  times."  Their  wealth  might  thus  be  used 
entirely  for  the  benefit  of  the  community,  and  in  a 
.  generous  spirit  worthy  of  its  noble  holders ;  but  it 
has  never  so  been  used  for  long  by  any  aristocracy. 
When,  later  on,  we  get  any  positive  knowledge  of 
the  economy  of  any  City -State,  we  find  troubles 

^  Arist.  Pol.  1297  B.  But  this  was  not  the  case  in  all 
aristocracies ;  only  where  the  land  was  suitable  for  horses. 
Holm,  i.  309. 

-  See  Maine,  Early  History  of  Institutions,  ch.  vi.  esp.  p.  168. 
Mommsen,  Hist  of  Rome,  i.  199  (Eng.  trans.) 


IV  RISE  OF  ARISTOCRATIC  CI^«/^NM$:|^T\   ?  i  ^^^6^  ]  /,\ 

arising  from  the  narrow  and  selfish  spirit  in  which 
the  noble  families  used  this  source  of  wealth.  There 
was  a  secret  poison  in  the  possession  of  it,  which 
would  sooner  or  later  begin  to  act.  So  long  as  "^ 
wealth  was  not  an  end  in  itself,  and  did  not  cause 
friction  with  their  dependants,  this  poison  did  not 
work ;  but  there  must  have  come  a  time  when  it 
began  to  narrow  their  views  of  life  and  its  ends, 
and  brought  them  into  collision  both  with  the  king 
and  with  the  people.  The  earliest  glimpses  we  get 
of  ancient  law .  show  us  that  the  disputes  to  be 
decided  were  disputes  about  property ;  and  the 
earliest  political  revolutions  of  which  we  have  any// 
knowledge  arose  out  of  ^unequal  distribution  of /I 
wealth,  It  is  not  too  much,  then,  to  conjecture  that 
at  a  very  early  period  these  noble  families  found  it 
convenient  to  take  into  their  own  hands  the  control 
of  the  unwritten  law,  and  that  one  reason  at  least  . 
why  the  monarchies  had  to  disappear  was  because 
they  stood  in  the  way  of  this.  The  king,  as  we 
saw,  was  the  fountain  of  justice  ;  and  if  his  decisions 
interfered  with  the  interests  of  the  nobility  in  their 
dealings  with  their  inferiors,  his  power  must  be  ^ 
limited  or  got  rid  of  entirely.  The  assembly  of 
nobles  which  had  acted  as  his  advising  body  must 
also  be  able  to  control  him,  or  the  executive  power 
he  possessed  must  pass  directly  into  the  hands  of 
the  members  of  it. 

Thus  narrowed  and  strengthened  both  in  the 
pride  of  birth  and  in  the  power  of  wealth,  the  aris- 
tocracies both  in  Greece  and  at  Eome  set  their  hands 
to  modify  the  form  of  government  so  as  to  bring  it 


^02  Ti^E  CITY-STATE  chap. 

more  into  harmony  with  their  own  particular  in- 
terests ;  and  we  must  now  turn  to  examine  briefly 
'  the  way  in  which  this  change  was  accomplished. 
We  know  something  of  it  at  Athens,  and  have 
recently  learnt  more  ;  we  have  also  some  knowledge 
of  it  at  Eome,  and  in  one  or  two  other  States. 

The  revolutions  at  Athens  and  Eome  may  be 
described,  so  far  as  we  can  understand  them,  as 
generically  the  same  but  specifically  different.  They 
seem  to  offer  a  contrast  in  more  than  one  important 
point.  At  Rome  there  is  every  sign  that  the 
monarchy  came  to  an  end  suddenly,  and  that  this 
was  the  result  of  attempts  on  the  part  of  a  power- 
ful monarch  to  override  the  aristocracy.  But  at 
Athens  we  may  guess  that  the  king's  power  fell  to 
pieces  gradually,  and  that  what  brought  it  to  an 
end  was  not  increasing  strength,  but  increasing 
weakness.  As  we  saw  (p.  49),  the  noble  families 
had,  in  part  at  least,  migrated  from  the  country  to 
Athens,  and  thus  found  their  opportunity  of  slowly 
closing  in  upon  the  king,  whose  power  might  have 
grown  much  more  conspicuous  had  not  his  councillors 
been  constantly  around  him.  He  seems  never  to  have 
struggled  against  them  with  any  serious  effort  or 
success.  There  is  no  Attic  tradition  of  misdoing  or 
tyranny  on  the  part  of  the  king.  The  word  Basileus 
was  never  held  in  execration  by  the  Athenians. 
We  do  not  hear  that  any  attempt  was  made  by  the 
king  to  "  take  the  people  into  partnership,"  and 
play  them  off  against  the  nobility.  There  is  no 
trace  in  later  Athenian  feeling  of  any  memory  of  hot 
blood  or  evil  doing  in  this  revolution  ;  the  develop- 


IV  RISE  OF  AEISTOCEATIC  GOVERNMENT  103 

ment  of  the  constitution  must  have  proceeded  gradu- 
ally  and  rationally,  as  it  also  continued  to  do   in 
later  stages  of  its  growth,  until  complete  democracy 
was  reached.      There  are  few  surprises  in  Athenian 
political  history :  the  constitution   grows  with  the 
growing   intelligence  of  the  people,  whose  love  oL<%j3^ 
order  and  sterling  good  sense  is  obvious  thrpughout.S  ^j^<tv 
With  the  aid  of  the  recently  discovered  Aris-   -^^ 
totelian  tract  on  the  Athenian  constitution,^  we  may  ^ 
now  believe  the  change  from  monarchy  to  aristo-  ^^^^^ 
cracy  to  have  been  in  outline  as  follows.     Codrus,  the  /<-<-* 
last  king  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  was  succeeded  oL^ 
by   a   line  of  Basileis  who  held   the  kingship  for  q^^ 
life,  hut  not  hy  simple  hereditary  right.      This  line,     -p 
the  Medontidse,  or  family  of  Medon,  son  of  Codrus,  "^^^ 
remained  the  kingly  family ;  but  any  member  of  it     Ka-< 
might  be  selected  to  fill  the  kingly  office,  and  this     C\a 
selection  was  in  the  hands  of  the  aristocracy.     How       OC 
this  selection  was  managed,  whether  by  lot  or  by 
voting  in  the  council  of  nobles  meeting  on  the  hill 
of  Ares,  we  do  not  at  present  know.     But  it  is  plain 
that  we  have  here,  in  the  new  expedient  of  selection, 
the  first  appearance  of  something  like  a  constitu- 
tional magistracy,  as  distinguished  from  the  tradi- 
tional and  hereditary  power  of  the  king.     And  this 
is  seen  still  more  plainly  in  the  fact — if  such  it  be 
— which  we  have  but  just  discovered,  that  the  king 
has  now  to  share  his  powers  with  other  authorities, 
to  whom  we  can  give  no  other  name  but  that  of 
magistrate.      A   Polemarch  was  appointed  to  help 
the  king  in  war  ;    and  later  on  an  Archon,  who 

^  'Adrjvaiujy  woXiTeia,  1-3. 


104  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

probably  relieved  him  of  some  of  the  judicial  work 
which  must  have  been  his  chief  civil  duty. 

Then  came  a  time  when  the  Basileus  had  so  far 
sunk  in  reputation  in  comparison  with  these  two 
magistracies  that  it  was  possible  and  advisable  to 
deprive  him  entirely  of  his  military  functions,  and 
also  to  leave  him  only  a  part  of  his  judicial  power. 

"^'There  remained  to  him  only  the  sacrificial  duties 
which  were  traditionally  associated  with  the  title  of 
Basileus,  and  the  cognisance  of  certain  crimes  of  a 
religious  character.  To  take  these  from  him  would 
be  a  violation  of  divine  law ;  but  no  such  scruple 
need  be  felt  in  passing  his  other  prerogatives  into 
alien  hands.  As  the  most  important  of  these  were 
no  doubt  the  judicial,  it  is  the  Archon  who  now 
rises  to  the  first  place  in  consideration,  with  the 
Polemarch  below  him  as  General,  while  the  Basileus 
occupies  a  place  midway  between  the  two.  The 
Archon,  however,  is  not  to  step  into  the  place 
which  the  kingly  family  held  ;  he  henceforward 
holds  his  position  not  for  life,  hut  for  a  period  of 

''  ten  years.  At  first  it  seems  that  both  he  and  the 
Basileus,  if  not  the  Polemarch  too,  were  selected 
from  the  family  of  the  Medontidse ;  for  it  was  not 
easy  to  get  rid  of  the  idea  that  the  "  ruler  "  must 
be  a  person  qualified  by  the  divine  right  of  descent, 
as  well  as  by  ability  or  prowess.  But  at  a  date 
which  is  usually  fixed  as  752  B.C.,  the  Archonship 
at  least  came  to  be  thrown  open  to  all  the  noble 
families.      And  in  the  seventh  century  (682   B.C.) 

/we  find  the  constitution  passing  without  further 
difficulty  into  a  real  republican  form  of  government ; 


IV  RISE  OF  ARISTOCRATIC  GOVERNMENT  105 

for  at  this  time  the  tenure  of  all  three  offices  is 
said  to  have  become  annual  in  duration,  and  six 
more  Archons  were  added  to  help  in  performing  the 
growing  business  of  the  State.  These  came  to  be 
known  as  Thesmothetse.  All  nine  magistrates  must 
now  have  been  chosen  from  the  whole  body  of  the 
aristocracy,  and  at  the  end  of  their  period  of  office,  v^ 
have  passed  into  the  aristocratic  council  for  life,      -^r:::^ 

Here,  then,  is  aristocratic  government  complete  \ 
and  organised.      There  are  two  leading  features  in 
it  as  we  see  it  at  Athens.      First,  we  have  a  close    p^ 
corporation  of  privilgged._iioble    families  who    call    j    - 
themselves  Eupatridse — a  word  which  shows  that  it     I 
was    high  descent   which  they  conceived  as    con-     \ 
stituting  their  chief  claim  to  predominance.      They 
were  privileged,  because  they  alone  could  hold  office 
in  the  State,  and  they  alone  could  select  the  officers  ; 
they  only,  in  fact,  were  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
word  iroXlrac,  citizens.      The  political  organ  which 
represented    this   corporation   was   almost  without  | 
doubt  the  council  of  the  Areopagus.      Secondly,  we  i 
find  a   distribution   of  the  functio_ns_j)£.jaxecutiYaJ  / 
government,   including,  of  course,  religious   duties,/ 
among  a  certain  small  number  of  officials,  elected! 
by  the  whole  body  of  the  privileged.     These  two 
features  were  probably  common  to  the  Greek  aris- 
tocracies of  this  period,  and  they  are  indeed  of  the 
essence  of  all  aristocratic  or  oligarchic  government. 
We  shall  find  them  also  at  Eome,  though  naturally 
varying  in  some  points  from  the  Athenian  type. 

At  Eome  the  power  of  the  king  had  been  stronger  , 
than  at  Athens,  stronger  perhaps  than  in  any  Greek  I 


106  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

State.  The  Eoman  aristocracy  consisted  of  farmers 
on  a  large  scale,  who  probably  spent  much  of  their 
time  in  the  country ;  thus,  unlike  the  Athenian 
nobility,  they  may  have  failed  to  act  as  a  timely 
obstacle  to  the  free  exercise  of  the  monarch's  per- 
sonal power.  However  this  may  have  been,  that 
power  was  in  itself  vividly  realised  at  Eome,  and 
capable  of  being  used  with  a  high  hand.  Two 
unmistakable  facts  show  this  distinctly.  First, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  the  Eoman  genius  for 
—^.politics  had  by  this  time  produced  a  technical  word, 
I  imperium,  for  plenary  magisterial  and  military  power, 
and  this  proves  that  they  had  a  more  definite  con- 
ception of  what  such  power  meant  than  the  Athen- 
ians, who  had  no  such  word.  Secondly,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  last  of  the  Eoman  kings  tried 

I  to  carry  the  exercise  of  this  imperium  beyond  the 
limits  which  a  reverential  custom  had  set  upon  it 
— to  turn  it,  in  fact,  into  a  tyranny.  Tarquinius 
/  Superbus  is  no  mythical  figure  in  Eoman  history. 
Though  we  need  not  believe  the  stories  told  of  him, 
some  of  which  can  be  traced  to  non- Eoman  sources, 
we  may  take  it  for  granted  that  there  was  really 
such  a  king,  that  he  was  an  Etruscan  by  birth,  and 
that  he  used  the  imperium  in  a  way  which  w^as 
foreign  to  Eoman  custom.^  Had  there  been  no  such 
king,  it  would  doubtless  have  been  found  necessary 
sooner  or  later  to  modify  the  practical  working  of 
the  imperium  in  the  hands  of  a  single  man ;  but 
the  conduct  of  Tarquinius  hastened  the  critical 
moment. 

^  Mommsen,  Hist,  of  Rome,  vol.  i.  p.  255. 


IV  RISE  OF  ARISTOCRATIC  GOVERNMENT  107 

Here,  then,  the  executive  power  had  to  he  in  some 
degree  restricted  \  and  the  way  in  which  the  Eoman 
aristocracy  contrived  this  is  most  curious  and  in- 
teresting. They  could  not  part  with  the  imperiitm 
they  had  created.  Like  the  patria  jpotestas  of  their 
home  life,  it  had  come  to  be  a  part  of  their  mental 
furniture  as  social  beings ;  and  more  than  this,  to 
abolish  anything  was  all  but  impossible  to  the 
Eoman  mind.  Institutions  might  grow,  change, 
decay,  fall  into  desuetude,  or  become  mere  forms ; 
but  as  descended  from  the  fathers  of  the  State 
they  could  not  be  wholly  done  away  with.  They^ 
had  once  been  useful,  and  might  in  some  way  be  -^ 
useful  again.  To  those  familiar  with  Eoman  his- 
tory many  examples  will  occur  of  this  peculiar 
tenacity  of  conservatism ;  but  the  change  from 
monarchy  to  aristocracy  in  509  B.C.  is  the  first 
and  perhaps  the  most  striking.  ^ 

The   imperium   of  the  Eex  was   not  abolishedH.  '''^ 
His  title  only,  and  some  of  his  insignia,  disappearedN 
from  the  political  system.     From  religious  observ- 
ance, however,  it  was  not  possible  wholly  to  sever 
the  title  of  the  priest-king,  or  the  relations  of  the 
State  to  the  gods  might  be  compromised.     A  Eex,  \ 
who  resided  in  the  king's  house  (regia),  continued 
to  perform  the  kingly  sacrifices,  and  held  the  first 
place   on   certain   formal   occasions  among   all   the 
Eoman  priests,  but  he  had  no  imperium,  and  was    i 
disqualified   from   holding    any    civil    office.^      The   ^ 
imperium,    however,    remained,     but    it   was    now 

^  For  the  survival  of  the  title  also  in  the  form  iTiierrex,  see  the 
last  edition  of  Smith's  Diet,  of  Antiquities,  s.v. 


108  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

/     entrusted  to  two  magistrates  instead  of  one,  and 

not  for  their  lifetime,  but  for  one  year  only,  at  the 

end  of  which  they  were  morally,  though  not  legally, 

^         bound  to  resign  it.     So  long  as  they  held  it  they 

\     could  use  it  undiminished  in  war,  and  with  hardly 

a  single  direct  limitation  in  the  city  itself     They 

^     were  nominally  quite  independent  of  each   other ; 

and  if  the  action  of  the  one  crossed  that  of  the 

other,  the   result  was   simply   that   imperium  was 

hampered  by  imperium,  not  by  any  new  factor  in 

the   constitution.     These   two   yearly   kings    could 

Vimprison,    scourge,  and   put   to   death,  could  issue 

edicts  and  command  armies,  and  could  appoint  their 

successors,  just  as  the  king  for  life  had  done.      In 

the  eye  of  the  law  the  imperium  was  undiminished ; 

it  only  changed  hands  once  every  year. 

Yet  while  keeping  this   precious   political  con- 
ception  to   all   appearance    intact,  the    aristocracy 
contrived  to  prevent  its  being  so  used  as  again  to 
override  the  custom  of  the  State,  or  indeed  to  inter- 
fere with  their  own   interests.     We  saw  that  the 
.      king  had  been  expected  to  consult  his  Senate — a 
j     custom  said  to  have  been  neglected  by  the  second 
.  Tarquinius.     No  law  was  passed,  now  or   at  any 
y  \     time,  which  compelled  the  magistrate  to  ask  or  take 
j     advice,  but  the  altered  conditions  under  which  the 

ianperiicm  was  now  held  made  it  practically  neces- 

V  sary  for  him  to  do  so.      He  would  be  himself  an 
y^  adviser  after  his  year  of  office  was  over,  and  more- 
over he  would  be,  as  a  private  individual,  liable  to 
criticism   in   the  Senate,  and  to  accusation  before 
the  people.      He  would  wish  to  strengthen  himself 


4y 


-IV  RISE  OF  ARISTOCRATIC  GOVERNMENT  109 

against  such  chances  by  following  the  general  voice 
of  the  aristocracy  assembled  in  the  Senate.  And 
it  was  not  long  before  habit  had  made  this  practice 
into  a  definite  constitutional  principle,  affecting  all 
the  magistrates  of  the  Eepublic,  with  results  of  the 
greatest  importance ;  for  it  eventually  raised  the  ^ 
Senate  from  the  position  of  an  advising  council  to 
that  of  a  supreme  administrative  body,  whose  advice 
became  the  utterance  of  an  authority  which  even  the 
holder  of  the  impermm  was  morally  bound  to  obey.    •/ 

Again,  it  was  now  laid  down  by  law,  according 
to  the  universal  tradition  of  the  Eomans,  that  the 
imperium  should  not  be  used  to  put  to  death  any 
Koman  citizen  without  allowing  him  that  right  of 
appealing  from  the  magistrate  to  the  people,  which 
the  king  had  usually  perhaps  been  willing  to  allow, 
but  might  certainly  refuse  if  he  chose.  For  this 
purpose,  as  well^as  for  others  to  be  mentioned 
hereafter,  the  convention  of  the  whole  number  of 
citizens  in  their  military  array  (comitia  centuriata) 
was  now  made  to  serve  as  a  political  assembly, 
answering  yes  or  no  to  the  question  {rogatio)  of  the 
presiding  magistrate.  The  consul  was  now  bound- 
by  law  to  allow  this  appeal,  and  this  was  perhaps 
the  only  direct  legal  limitation  placed  on  his  im- 
permm. It  was  a  necessary  one,  if  the  aristocracy 
were  really  to  control  their  executive,  or  even  to 
secure  themselves  against  it;  and  as  they  had  a 
majority  of  votes  in  this  new  form  of  assembly 
(to  which  we  shall  return  later  on),  their  security 
was  practically  complete. 

The  imperimn,  then,  though  in  theory  it  remained 


110  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

^  as  free  and  absolute  as  ever,  was  practically 
restricted  in  civil  matters — (1)  in  respect  of  the 
time  for  which  it  was  held,  and  the  relation  to  each 
other  of  the  two  magistrates  who  held  it ;  (2)  in 
respect  of  the  relations  of  these  magistrates  to  the 
other  parts  of  the  nascent  constitution,  the  Senate 
^  and  the  centuriate  assembly.  But  in  the  sense  of 
,  a  military  command  it  was  still  free  from  all  limi- 
I  tations  save  that  of  the  duration  of  a  campaign. 
The-  good  sense  of  the  Eomans  retained  for  their 
consuls  in  the  field  a  temporary  absolutism  as  com- 
plete as  that  of  the  king.  They  were  free  from  the 
necessity  of  consulting  the  Senate,  and  they  held 
the  power  of  life  and  death  unhampered  by  the 
■  right  of  the  accused  to  appeal  to  the  people. 
Hence  arose  a  distinction  between  the  imjperium 
in  the  city  {domi)  and  the  same  imperium  in  the 
field  (militice),  which  was  maintained  throughout 
the  lifQ  of  the  Eepublic,  and  which  must  be 
clearly  grasped  before  the  Eoman  system  of 
government  can  be  understood  adequately.  It  was 
only  when  that  government  passed  once  more  into 
the  hands  of  a  single  man  that  this  distinction 
vanished,  and  Caesar  and  his  successors  held  a 
single  undivided  and  unrestricted  imioerium} 

Our  knowledge  of  this  revolution  at  Eome  rests 
on  no  contemporary  records,  only  on  the  traditions 
of  the  Eomans  and  on  scraps  of  learning  collected 
by  their  antiquaries,  sifted  and  supplemented  by  the 
modern  "  method  of  survivals."     Yet  it  is  the  most 

1  Mommsen,  StaatsrecM,  i.  59  foil.  ;   article   "Imperium"   in 
Did.  of  Antiquities  (new  edition). 


IV  RISE  OF  ARISTOCRATIC  GOVERNMENT  111 

consistent  account  we  have  of  any  such  revolution, 
and  the  mutilated  beginning  of  the  lately  discovered 
"  Constitution  of  Athens  "  has  not  placed  the  corre- 
sponding change  at  Athens  equally  beyond  doubt 
in  its  leading  features.  At  Eome  we  can  see  quite 
plainly  how  an  aristocracy  with  a  strong  political  and 
legal  instinct  went  about  the  difficult  task  of  getting 
the  executive  into  its  own  hands,  neither  diminishing 
its  efficiency  on  the  one  hand,  nor  yet  leaving  it  so 
uncontrolled  as  to  be  capable  of  further  misuse. 

But  from  Athenian,  as  from  Eoman,  history  we 
may  learn  at  this  point  a  most  valuable  lesson. 
Our  complicated  modern  constitutions  make  it  hard 
for  us  to  realise  the  fact— that  the  earliest  form  of 
government  was  simply  an  executive  power,  an^^ 
nothing  more.  It  consisted  of  a  aingla  man's  powjer 
to  command,  unrestricted  save  by  moral  checks. 
Such  a  power,  such  a  discipline,  were  necessary  to 
the  infant  State,  as  they  had  been  also  to  the  family. 
There  might  be  a  council  of  high-born  advisers,  and 
there  might  be  assemblies  of  the  people  held  from 
time  to  time,  but  neither  of  these  had  any  direct 
share  in  the  government  of  the  State,  which  was 
the  task  of  the  king  alone. 

Now  it  must  be  placed  to  the  credit  of  the  aris- 
tocracies that  just  as  they  first  developed  the  idea 
of  duty  to  the  State,  so  they  transformed  this 
executive  government  from  a  primitive  contrivance 
into  a  part  of  a  real  constitutional  system.  Had 
they  destroyed  the  executive  power,  they  would 
probably  have  destroyed  the  State  too ;  had  they 
attempted  to  pass  it  over  to  their  council,  and  so  to 


112  THE  CITY-STATE  chap,  iv 

share  it  amongst  their  whole  number,  they  would 
have  weakened  it  irretrievably.  As  it  was,  they 
kept  the  power  intact,  but  they  made  it  a  duty  as 
well  as  an  honour — a  duty  to  be  shared  by  the 
holder  with  one  or  two  others,  and  for  a  set  time 
only ;  a  duty  for  the  good  performance  of  which 
the  holders  would  be  made  responsible  as  soon  as 
they  returned  to  the  life  of  private  citizens. 

This,  then,  is  the  point  at  which  the  constitu- 
tional history  of  the  ancient  State  really  begins.    It 
is  a  great  epoch,  for  now  begins  also   the  idea  of 
political  order;  not  of  order  only  in  the  sense  of 
traditional  and  trustful  obedience  to  a  hereditary 
monarchy,  but    order    in    the    sense    of   conscious 
organisation  by  an    intelligent  body  of  privileged 
individuals.      From  our  better  knowledge  of  later 
history  we  are  apt  to  see  both  Greek  and  Eoman 
aristocracies    in    a    bad   light ;     we   do  not   easily 
recognise  the  value  of  their  contribution  to  political 
history,  because  we  find  them  acting  as  a  purely 
conservative  social  force,  and  acting   usually  from 
self-regarding  motives  in  the  later  series  of  political 
changes.     But  it  was  really  to  them  that  even  the 
democracies    themselves    owed    those   traditions   of 
solid    government  which  enabled    them   to  govern 
at  all ;  and  it  will  hardly  be  going  too  far  to  say 
that  all  the  three  constitutional  germs  which  we 
find  in  the  infant  State — the  king,  the  council,  and 
the  people,  or  the  executive,  the  deliberative  and 
the  legislative  elements  in  the  later  constitutions — 
owed  both  their  survival  and  their  development  to 
the  political  intelligence  of  the  aristocracies. 


/"CHAPTEE    V 

TRANSITION    FROM    ARISTOCRACY    TO    DEMOCRACY 
(GREECE) 

The  picture  given  in  the  last  chapter  of  the  rule  of 
the  aristocracies  was  necessarily  a  somewhat  ideal 
one.  We  were  dealing  with  a  period  of  which 
we  have  no  direct  historical  evidence ;  we  had  to 
interpret  the  work  of  the  aristocracies  by  attri- 
buting to  them  a  certain  stage  of  development  in 
the  life  of  the  City-State,  which  cannot,  so  far  as 
we  can  see,  be  accounted  for  in  any  other  way.^ 
That  work  must  have  been  partly  destructive, 
partly  constructive.  The  loose  fabric  of  ancient 
monarchy  was  pulled  down ;  but  a  new  fabric 
slowly  arose,  more   compact,  and  better  suited  to 

^  From  what  is  now  called  the  Myceufean  age,  i.  e.  the  age  oi 
the  art  treasures  found  at  Mycenae  and  elsewhere,  to  the  seventh 
century,  there  is  a  gap  in  Greek  history,  generally  supposed  to  be 
occupied  by  a  Dorian  invasion  of  the  Peloponnese,  by  a  series  of 
colonising  movements,  by  the  settlement  of  the  constitution  at 
Sparta,  and  the  abolition  of  kingship  elsewhere.  All  these  events 
belong  to  the  age  of  aristocracy,  or  (what  is  the  same  thing)  to  the 
age  of  declining  kingship. 

I 


114  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

the  society  which  was  to  shelter  under  it.  In  the 
council  of  nobles  men  must  have  begun  to  learn 
what  government  means — how  to  deliberate  with 
due  regard  for  order,  for  the  opinions  of  others,  and 
for  the  good  of  the  State.  Here  were  learnt,  if  we 
are  right,  those  necessary  lessons  in  the  grammar  of 
politics,  which  are  so  much  a  part  of  our  own  mental 
furniture  that  we  can  hardly  conceive  of  a  time 
when  they  had  still  to  be  slowly  and  painfully 
acquired. 

But  the  very  learning  of  this  lesson  was  a  process 
which  must  in  time  have  narrowed  the  interests 
and  prejudices  of  the  learners.  Where  we  first  meet 
with  aristocracies  in  records  which  may  be  called 
historical,  we  can  see  that  while  much  progress  has 
been  made  in  the  art  of  government,  the  governors 
have  become  a  class  whose  sympathies  are  limited, 
and  whose  motives  are  self-regarding.  Government 
has  in  fact  become  a  science  known  only  to  the  few, 
and  as  the  few  were  also  the  rich,  their  political 
education  has  taught  them  not  only  how  to  govern, 
but  how  to  make  government  protect  and  advance 
their  own  interests.  Some  indication  was  given  in 
the  last  chapter  of  the  way  in  which  this  might 
come  about,  when  we  endeavoured  to  explain  how 
the  nobility  found  it  expedient  to  put  an  end  to 
kingship.     We   must   now  look  at   the  same  ten- 

/  dency  from  a  different  point  of  view,  and  show  how, 
perhaps  at  the  same  time,  the  few  began  to  slide 
into  a  sharper  opposition  to  the  many  than  had  as 

1  yet  been  felt  since  the  beginning  of  the  City-State. 
Greek  history  proper  may  be  said  to  begin  in  the 


V  FROM  ARISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  115 

seventh  century  B.C.,  and  to  increase  in  value  greatly 
in  the  sixth.  Here  we  begin  to  find  our  footing 
firmer,  meeting  as  we  do  with  the  earliest  lyric 
poetry,  with  archaic  works  of  art,  with  an  inscrip- 
tion here  and  there,  and  with  historical  traditions 
preserved  in  later  writers  such  as  Herodotus,  Tliu- 
cydides,  Aristotle,  and  Plutarch.^  Koman  history 
proper  begins  later,  in  the  fifth  century,  and  is  less 
certain,  depending  entirely  on  tradition,  or  on  records 
of  a  doubtful  character  used  by  Livy  and  Dionysius 
as  late  as  the  age  of  Augustus.  But  both  in  Greece~| 
and  Italy,  as  soon  as  the  mist  begins  to  lift,  what 
we  dimly  see  is  much  the  same.  We  see  aristo- 
cracies narrowed  in  interests,  and  brought  into  j 
sharp  opposition  with  the  class  below  them ;  in 
some  cases  they  triumph,  as  at  Sparta,  and  prolong 
the  age  of  aristocracy  into  a  hard  and  barren  period 
of  oligarchic  rule;  in  others  they  are  gradually 
forced  to  give  way,  and  to  learn  another  and  yet 
more  difficult  lesson  than  that  of  the  art  of  govern- 
ment by  a  class.  When  this  new  lesson  is  learnt, 
new  prospects  of  prosperity,  both  material  and 
moral,  are  opened  to  the  State  which  has  had 
sufficient  patience  and  good  sense  to  learn  it. 

But  how  has  this  sharp  opposition  arisen  be- 
tween the  few  and  the  many  ?  In  the  age  of  king- 
ship, as  we  saw,  the  functions  of  government  were 
religJQUS,  .judicial,   and   military.     These   functions 

^  To  these  should  be  added  the  poems  of  Hesiod,  and  especially 
the  Works  and  DaySy  which  gives  us  a  picture  of  the  conditions  of 
life  in  Bojotia  at  a  very  early  period ;  but  we  do  not  know  the 
exact  date  of  these  poems. 


116  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

have  now  passed  out  of  the  hands  of  the  king, 
and  belong  to  the  magistrates  and  council  of  the 
aristocracy.  Let  us  see  how  they  might  be  used  so 
as  to  favour  the  interests  of  the  few  as  against 
those  of  the  many. 

The  secrets  of  religion  consisted  of  a  knowledge 
of  the  ritual  proper  to  each  occasion ;  the  know- 
ledge, that  is,  of  the  art  of  keeping  the  human 
inhabitants  of  the  city  on  good  terms  with  its  divine 
members.  Every  public  act  was  accompanied  by  a 
sacrifice,  and  all  sacrifices  must  be  performed  in 
exactly  the  right  way.  The  sacrificial  hymns  must 
be  rightly  sung  ;  the  omens  must  be  taken,  the 
purificatory  processions  conducted,  exactly  in  the 
received  manner,  or  the  gods  would  not  answer  and 
bless.^  The  whole  life  and  happiness  of  the  State 
depended  on  the  proper  performance  of  these 
necessary  duties. 

Now  in  a  State  made  up,  as  we  have  seen,  by 
the  union  of  lesser  communities,  each  of  which 
had  its  own  peculiar  worship  conducted  by  its  own 
noble  family  or  families,  it  is  plain  that  all  these 
worships,  now  embodied  in  the  State,  must  have 
remained  in  the  hands  of  the  aristocracy.  The 
whole  organisation  of  the  State's  religious  life  was 
theirs  also.  The  regulation  of  festivals,  of  marriages, 
of  funerals,  of  holy  places  and  land  belonging  to  the 

^  No  better  example  of  this  principle  can  be  found  than  in  the 
great  inscription  from  Ignvium  in  Italy,  which  gives  at  great 
length  the  ritual  of  a  purificatory  procession  round  the  city.  A 
single  slip  necessitated  the  returning  of  the  procession  to  the  point 
last  started  from. — Biicheler,  Umhrica,  p.  21,  etc. 


V  FROM  AEISTOCEACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  117 

gods, — all  that  the  Eomans  understood  by  the  words 
jus  sacrum, — was  theirs  and  theirs  only.  For  a 
person  to  meddle  with  such  things,  who  was  not 
qualified  by  birth  or  education  or  tradition,  nor 
expressly  invited  by  the  State  as  a  reformer,  was 
not  only  to  interfere  with  the  rights  of  a  class, 
but  positively  to  disturb  the  good  relations  of  the 
city  with  its  gods,  and  thus  to  imperil  its  very 
life.^  Of  these  relations,  and  of  this  life,  the  noble 
families  were  in  a  way  trustees ;  what  wonder, 
then,  if  their  trusteeship  increased  their  pride 
and  narrowed  their  sympathies,  raising  in  them  a 
growing  contempt  for  men  who  knew  nothing  of 
the  will  or  the  needs  of  the  divine  inhabitants  of 
the  city  ? 

So  it  was  also  in  the  region  of  profane  law,  as 
it  slowly  disentangled  itself  from  the  law  of  religi- 
ous usage.  Here,  too,  the  rule  held  good  that  all 
solemn  acts  must  be  performed  according  to  pre- 
scribed order,  if  they  were  to  have  any  binding 
force.  Eules  governing  the  tenure  of  land,  rules 
governing  the  transference  of  all  property  by  suc- 
cession or  sale,  rules  governing  the  treatment  of 
evil-doers  and  the  adjustment  of  all  disputes,  so 
far  as  they  came  under  the  cognisance  of  the  State 
at  all,  were  known  and  administered  by  the  aris- 
tocracy only.  They  were  as  much  matter  of  technical 
and  traditional  knowledge  as  the  religious  law,  and 
could  not  be  administered  save  by  those  to  whom 
a  divine  order  had  entrusted  that  knowledge.  The 
executive  of  the  State,  in  fact,  was  in  the  hands  of 

^  See  e.g.  Liry,  iv.  chaps.  2  and  6. 


118  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

the  only  true  statesmen  {TroXlrai)}  What  wonder 
then,  once  more,  if  these  men  and  their  families 
believed  themselves  to  be  the  only  lawful  possessors 
of  secrets  of  government,  as  well  as  of  religion, 
which  they  might  turn  to  their  own  particular 
advantage  ? 

Even  in  military  matters — the  third  depart- 
ment of  government — the  same  tendency  is  seen ; 
for  the  aristocracy  took  the  greater  risk  in  actual 
warfare,  and  were  at  greater  expense  than  the 
commons  in  providing  themselves  with  horses  and 
superior  arms.^  They,  like  the  chivalry  of  the 
middle  ages,  were  the  flower  of  the  State's  army ; 
they  had  a  greater  stake  in  the  State  and  they  bore 
the  greater  burden.  What  wonder,  then,  if  they, 
like  their  mediaeval  counterparts,  came  to  look  down 
on  the  people  as  louts  who  could  not  or  .would  not 
fight,  unworthy  alike  of  honour  on  the  battlefield, 
and  of  power  in  the  constitution  ?  ^ 
^'  Thus  we  may  be  sure  that  in  course  of  time 
there  came  to  be  a  greater  distinctness  of  outline  in 

^  In  Homer  the  ttoX^ttjs  is  literally  the  dweller  in  the  ttoXis  as 
opposed  to  the  dweller  in  the  Eypos :  II.  ii.  806  ;  Od.  vii.  131, 
xvii.  206.  The  latter  two  passages  may  indicate  a  time  when  the 
word  was  beginning  to  be  used  in  its  later  sense  ;  for  it  is  the 
nobility  that  dwells  in  the  7r6Xis,  as  in  the  Mycensean  age  it  was, 
perhaps,  only  the  /Sao-tXei/raros. 

2  Aristotle,  Pol.  1297  B;  Gilbert,  ii.  274. 

'^  This  contempt  is  visible  even  in  Homer,  where,  however,  it 
may  be  rather  a  reflex  from  the  age  of  the  compilers  (ninth  to 
seventh  century)  than  a  feature  of  the  "  Mycensean  "  age  :  Od.  i. 
411,  iv.  64,  vi.  187  ;  and  even  in  B.  xiv.  126,  xvi.  570.  Fanta, 
Der  Staat,  etc.  p.  14.  The  next  point  at  which  we  meet  it  is  in 
he  poems  of  Theognis. 


V  FEOM  AKISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  119 

the  position  of  the  class  to  whom  all  these  secrets 
and  advantages  belonged.  While  the  State  was  not 
yet  fully  realised,  while  its  elements  were  still  in 
solution,  this  distinctness  was  less  strong.  But 
when  the  various  elements  of  population  came  to 
face  each  other  in  the  well-knit  State,  the  idea  of 
privilege  began  to  make  itself  felt.  The  holders  of 
the  secrets  which  we  have  been  describing,  so  soon 
as  they  began  to  use  them  for  their  own  advantage 
as  a  class,  would  cease  to  be  thought  of  as  heaven- 
appointed  trustees,  and  would  come  to  be  consideredj 
as  privileged. 

And  as  such  we  find  them  when  history  opens.~\ 
Their  right  to  exclusive  advantages  is  already  ques- 
tioned, and  they  are  themselves  responsible  forthis^ 
They  have  initiated  a  period  in  which  the  estab- 
lished order  is  called  in  question.  They  claim  to  be 
the  only  true  men  of  the  State,  and  thus  suggest  the 
question  of  what  citizenship  is,  and  who  is  a  citizen. 
They  absorb  the  land,  by  lending  money  or  stock 
on  the  security  of  estate  or  person,  and  thus  they 
raise  questions  about  the  justice  of  the  unwritten 
law,  and  the  power  of  the  executive  which  enforces 
it.  In  manners  and  bearing  they  show  an  increas- 
ing contempt  for  all  who  are  not  born  and  educated 
like  themselves,  and  for  all  employments  which  are 
not  after  their  own  kind;  and  here  again  they 
unconsciously  invite  questioning  as  to  the  order  of 
things  in  the  world — the  difference  between  free- 
man and  slave,  rich  and  poor,  noble  and  ignoble. 
It  is  this  questioning  that  is  the  chief  characteristic 
of  the  age  we  now  have  to  deal  with — an  age  in 


120  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

which  the  old  order  of  things  ceases  to  be  thought 
of  as  divinely  dispensed,  the  old  worships  are  to  be 
no  longer  the  only  ones  which  claim  the  attention 
of  the  State,  and  membership  in  the  old  groups  of 
noble  clans  no  longer  the  sole  test  of  real  citizen- 
ship.      Aristocracy,    in    fact,   has    ceased    in    any 

yreal  sense  to  be  the  rule  of  the  best,  and  has  be- 
come the  rule  of  the  few  and  rich.  It  has  lost  its 
essential  character,  and  men  begin  to  ask  questions 
about  it, — to  call  in  question  its  claim  for  reverence; 
it  is  known  now  as  oligarchy,  the  rule  of  the  wealthy 
few,  and  continues  so  to  be  known,  wherever  it  is 

1^ found,  throughout  Greek  history.^ 

As  yet  we  have  said  little  or  nothing  about  the 
population  from  which  the  aristocracy  thus  came  to 
be  more  and  more  vividly  distinguished,''and  on  whose 
interests  it  now  began  seriously  to  encroach.  But 
it  is  the  rise  of  this  population  into  prominence 
which  has  made  both  Greek  and  Eoman  history 
really  valuable  for  us  ;  and  before  we  exemplify  that 
rise  in  any  single  State,  we  must  form  some  idea 
of  who  they  were.  The  aristocracies  did  their 
part,  as  we  have  seen ;  but  the  essential  fibre  of  a 
people  is  not  to  be  found  in  an  upper  class  only, 
and  any  class,  however  gifted,  must  sooner  or  later 
dwindle  and  decay.  The  questioning,  the  ferment- 
ation, which  appears  in  Greece  in  or  about  the 
seventh  century,  indicates  the  growth  in  intelli- 
gence and  aspiration  of  this  lower  population ;  it 
shows  that  the  lessons  of  public  duty  and  of  the 
art   of  government,  which   the   nobles    have   been 

1  Aristotle,  Politics,  1290  B  ;  cf.  1293  B. 


V  FROM  ARISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  121 

learning,  have  had  an  influence  beyond  their  own 
ranks. 

Those  free  persons  who  are  not  dwellers  in  the 
city,  i.e.  the  fortress,  like  the  king  or  the  leading 
nobles,  appear  in  Homer  as  either  aypoiwrai,,  i.e. 
tillers  of  the  soil,  shepherds,  and  herdsmen,  or, 
on  the  other  hand,  as  reKTove^  avhpe<^,  or  S7)/jLt6epyoi, 
namely,  craftsmen,  tradesmen,  and  what  we  should 
call  professional  men.^  AU  these  clearly  formed 
part  of  the  community  (S^/ao?),^  as  distinguished 
from  the  slaves  ;  they  served  in  war  Kara  (pvXa 
Kark  <f)priTpa<^  {II.  ii.  362),  i.e.  according  to  the 
groups  of  kinship  in  which  they  lived  at  home.^  On 
the  whole,  the  "people"  of  the  Homeric  age  must 
be  thought  of  as  numerous,  industrious,  and  content 
with  their  position  as  labourers  on  the  land  or 
artisans  in  the  city.^ 

We  do  not  know  for  certain  what  part  of  Greece 
the  Homeric  descriptions  represent ;  but  in  historical 
times  the  lower  populations  of  many  States  do  not 
accord  with  them,  owing  to  changes  caused  by 
migrations  and  conquests,  of  which  the  greatest  was 

^  Fanta,  Dcr  Staat  in  der  Ilias  u.  Odyssce,  p.  42  foil. 

-  This  is  the  word  in  Homer  for  the  city  and  its  land  taken 
together,  e.g.  II.  ii.  547.     Fanta,  p.  12, 

^  This  population  may  have  been  gradually  increased  in  certain 
ways,  e.g.  by  liberation  of  slaves,  and  by  reception  of  foreigners 
skilled  in  some  craft ;  as  e.g.  in  Od.  xvii.  383,  "  craftsmen  of  the 
people,  a  prophet  or  a  healer  of  ills,  a  shipwright,  or  a  godlike 
minstrel  "  ;  but  whether  such  persons  were  admitted  into  the  (f>\j\a 
and  (ppTfjTpai  must  be  very  doubtful. 

^  These  last  would  live,  as  seems  to  have  been  the  case  at 
Mycenfe  and  the  Acropolis  of  Athens,  not  in  the  citadel,  but  in 
the  suburb  below. 


122  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

the  invasion  of  the  Peloponnese  by  the  Dorians.  The 
"  people "  in  most  Peloponnesian  States  were  not 
really  a  part  of  the  State  at  all,  but  had  been 
reduced  to  subjection  by  conquest,  and  so  remained. 
But  in  Attica,  which  had  never  been  completely 
overrun  by  invaders,  we  get  glimpses  of  a  popula- 
tion which  strongly  reminds  us  of  Homer.  In 
contrast  to  the  Eupatridse  or  nobles  was  a  class 
sometimes  called  Georgi^  (husbandmen),  sometimes 
Demiurgi  (artisans) ;  and  we  may  think  of  these  as 
partly  small  landowners,  together  with  shepherds 
and  herdsmen  on  the  high  lands,  partly  as  artisans 
and  labourers  for  hire,  living  at  the  foot  of  the 
Acropolis,  and  fishermen  on  the  sea  coast.  Per- 
haps we  may  generalise  so  far  as  to  conclude  that 
in  most  Greek  States,  ere  yet  the  slaves  had  become 
very  numerous,  such  a  class  existed,  whose  occupa- 
tions enabled  the  great  to  live  in  affluence ;  in  some 
cases,  as  at  Sparta,  these  were  almost  in  the  position 
of  serfs,  and  in  no  sense  citizens,  while  in  others,  as 
at  Athens,  they  were  all  included  in  the  groups  of 
Attic  kin,^  and  formed  a  part  of  the  State  proper, 
though  they  had  no  share  in  the  government  except 
in  so  far  as  they  might  be  occasionally  summoned 
to  an  assembly.^      And  as  the  aristocracies  grew 

^  Or  Geomori,  Pollux,  8,  111.  There  is  much  confusion  about  these 
names  :  cf.  Gilbert,  i.  Ill  note.  In  the  Ath.  Pol.  ch.  13,  the  Georgi 
appear  as  Agroiki,  and  the  classes  are  three. 

2  See  Gilbert,  i.  Ill ;  Holm,  i.  457. 

^  In  the  colonies,  or  at  least  the  western  ones,  the  conditions 
were  again  different ;  the  first  settlers  constituting  an  aristocracy 
so  soon  as  new  settlers  arrived,  and  the  latter  becoming  a  body  of 
"outsiders"  desirous  of  sharing  in  land  and  government.      See 


V  FROM  ARISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  123 

narrower,  the  occasions  of  meeting  became  natur- 
ally fewer. 

It  was  among  this  lower  population  that  the 
questioning  we  have  spoken  of  was  first  heard. 
Some  of  them  may  have  advanced  in  position  and 
wealth  in  an  age  which  developed  a  great  com- 
mercial system/  and  in  some  States  numbers  left 
their  homes  and  settled  in  the  colonies  which  the 
same  commercial  enterprise  was  now  forming.  But 
in  Attica,  which  shared  but  little  in  this  colonising 
movement,  the  mass  of  the  people  became  steadily^ 
depressed,  as  we  shall  see,  by  the  aristocracy,  or,  as 
we  may  now  call  it,  the  oligarchy ;  and  social  dis- 
content and  economical  difficulties  began  to  have 
their  natural  result  upon  politics.  The  age  of 
fermentation  sets  in.  In  the  rest  of  this  chapter 
we  can  only  trace  the  leading  characteristics  of  this 
fermentation  in  Greece,  and  especially  at  Athens, 
where  alone  we  get  any  comprehensive  view  of  it ; 
later  on  we  shall  deal  with  the  parallel  movement  j 
at  Eome. 

Let  us  note  in  the  first  place  that  in  Greece  the 
disturbance  almost  everywhere  took  the  form  of  a 
tendency  to  set  up  an  executive  power  stronger__/ 
than  that  of  the  existing  oligarchy.  The  few  had 
formerly  suited  their  own  interests  by  appropriat- 
ing the  executive  power  of  the  kings,  which  was 
not  usually  a  difficult  process,  as  they  belonged  to 
the  same  class  as  the  king.     It  was  now  becoming 

Freeman,  Hist,  of  Sicily,  ii.  11  foil.,  and  cf.  the  early  history  of 
Cyrene  in  Herodotus,  iv.  159  foil. 
1  Thucyd.  i.  13. 


124  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

the  instinct  of  the  many  to  consult  their  advantage 
also  by  appropriating  the  executive  of  the  few ; 
but  this  was  a  much  harder  task,  and  the  many 
were  almost  always  compelled  to  begin,  not  by 
abolishing  or  directly  attacking  it,  but  simply  by 
setting  it  aside  and  creating  a  new  and  still  stronger 
government  in  its  place.  This  was  a  rude  ex- 
pedient, though  perhaps  the  only  possible  one.  It 
was  in  some  instances  so  violent  a  remedy  as  to 
become  in  itself  a  formidable  disease.  It  weakened 
the  ideas  of  law  and  order, — the  very  ideas  which 
the  long  ages  of  aristocratic  government  had  created 
or  confirmed ;  it  set  class  against  class ;  it  roused 
dangerous  ambitions  in  the  minds  of  men  who  loved 
power  and  wealth  ;  it  broke  roughly  into  the  natural 
and  tranquil  course  of  political  advance.  Yet  it  was 
so  universal  in  Greece  in  this  age  that  we  must 
believe  it  to  have  been  a  necessity ;  one  which 
arose  from  the  over-long  acquiescence  by  the  people 
in  the  aristocratic  monopoly  of  wealth,  education, 
and  power. 

To  this  strong  executive,  which  practically  meant 
absolutism,  the  Greeks  gave  two  different  names 
answering  to  the  two  ways  in  which  it  might  be 
constituted.  If  it  were  set  up  by  the  general 
assent  of  the  community,  or  by  the  action  of  an 
oligarchy  more  reasonable  than  usual,  with  the 
temporary  object  of  adjusting  the  constitution  to 
the  needs  of  the  age,  its  holder  was  called  Aisym- 
n^tes,  or  arbiter.  If  on  the  other  hand  an  in- 
dividual citizen,  either  with  good  or  evil  intent, 
pushed  himself  into  the  position  of  an  autocrat,  or 


V  FROM  ARISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  1 25 

rose  to  it  by  tltex  action  of  the  unprivileged  class 
only,  he  was  called  tyran.t.-^  In  either  case  the 
immediate  result  was  the  same;  the  oligarchic  exe- 
cutive disappeared,  and  in  most  cases  could  never 
be  re-established  on  the  old  basis  of  social  prestige. 
But  the  indirect  results  were  often  different ;  for 
the  tyrant  was  apt  to  leave  behind  him  a  legacy 
of  revolutionary  tendency,  the  natural  fruit  of  his 
own  violence  and  self-seeking ;  while  the  arbiter 
had  at  least  the  chance  of  leaving  a  well-ordered 
State  as  the  result  of  his  labours,  which  in  spite  of 
subsequent  difficulties  and  dangers  might  never 
wholly  forget  the  lesson  it  had  received.  The 
government  of  the  arbiter  was  a  government  of 
reason,  based  on  law  and  begetting  law;^  the 
government  of  the  tyrant  was  often  one  of  passion, 
begetting  a  spirit  of  lawlessness  utterly  alien  to  the 
true  Greek  nature. 

The  position  and  work  of  the  arbiter  may  best 
be  studied  in  the  history  of  Athens.  The  tyrant 
is  also  to  be  found  there,  and,  strange  to  say,  im- 
mediately following  on  the  arbiter ;  but  the  rule 
of  the  latter  had  here  preserved  the  instinct  of 
order,  and  the  tyranny  is  for  the  most  part  of  so 
mild  a  nature  as  hardly  to  be  characteristic.  I 
shall  therefore  postpone  the  consideration  of  the 
real  tyrant  to  the  end  of  this  chapter,  and  keep  for 
the  present  to  Athens,  where,  in  spite  of  the  un- 

1  Freeman,  Sicily,  ii.  49  foil.  Aristotle  defines  the  position  of 
the  Aisymnetes  as  alperr)  rvpawis  {Pol.  1285  B),  the  rvpawis  as 
fiovapx^o.  irpbs  t6  aijfjicpepov  rb  toO  fjiovapxovvTos  (Pol.  1279  B). 

2  Cf.  Butcher,  Sonie  Aspects  of  the  Greek  GeniiLS,  p.  57  foil. 


126  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

certainty  of  historic  details,  we  shall  be  able  to 
detect  the  fermentation  which  called  for  the  en- 
trusting of  abnormal  power  to  an  individual 
arbiter,  and  to  see  something  of  the  use  he  made 
of  it,  as  well  as  of  the  excellent  results  he  left 
behind  him. 

.  The   period   of  fermentation  begins   at   Athens 

towards  the  close  of  the  seventh  century.      Three 

I    successive  events  illustrate  its  progress. 

r"  The  first  of  these  (though  their  order  is  indeed 
somewhat  uncertain)  is  the  appearance  for  the  first 
time  of  a  code  of  written  law,  attributed  to  the 
^  aristocrat  Draco,  in  the  year  621  b.c.^  The  recent 
discovery  of  the  Aristotelian  treatise  on  the  Athenian 
constitution  has  so  far  only  added  confusion  to  our 
ignorance  of  this  man  and  his  work ;  for  the  new 
account  is  so  strange,  and  so  much  in  contradiction 
with  what  little  we  knew  before,  that  grave  sus- 
picions have  been  aroused  as  to  the  real  origin  and 
application  of  the  chapter  which  contains  it.  But 
("for  us  at  present  it  will  suffice  to  note  the  simple 
fact  that  law  is  now  for  the  first  time  in  Athenian 
history  set  down  in  writing,  and  the  task  entrusted 
ijbo  a  leading  individual  with  full  powers.  About 
the  same  time,  or  later,  we  find  the  same  pheno- 
menon in  other  parts  of  Hellas.  The  lawgivers  of 
the  age,  such  as  Zaleucus  of  Locri  in  Italy,  and 
Charondas  of  Catana  in  Sicily,  do  not  indeed  offer 
an  exact  analogy  to  Draco ;  they  correspond  rather 
with  Draco's  great  successor.  But  the  lesson  for  us 
is  the  same  in  all  these  cases,  and  also  in  the  legisla- 

^  Aristotle,  Pol.  ii.  12,  1274  B  ;  Ath.  Pol.  ch.  iv. 


V  FROM  ARISTOCEACY  TO  DEMOCEACY  127 

tion  of  the  Decemvirate  at  Eome,  which  we  shall 
notice  in  a  later  chapter.  Whether  the  customaryl 
law  was  substantially  changed  or  simply  com- 
mitted to  writing,  it  is  plain  that  it  is  to  be  no 
longer  the  private  possession  of  a  class.  The  secrets 
of  aristocratic  rule  are  being  revealed  to  the  whole/ 
community  ;  questioning  has  begun — questioning  as 
to  the  rules  which  the  oligarchic  executive  ad- 
ministers. And  the  first  signs  of  distrust  in  the 
executive  and  its  administration  are  perhaps  to  be 
seen  in  the  fact  that  the  task  of  writing  down  the 
law  is  entrusted  to  a  single  individual,  and  not  to 
that  executive  as  a  whole. 

The  next  event  is  a  deliberate  attempt  at  tyranny"7 
on  the  part  of  an  Athenian  who  had  married  the 
daughter  of  Theagenes,  tyrant  of  Megara.  This  is 
none  the  less  significant  because  it  was  a  failure. 
Like  Theagenes  in  the  neighbouring  State,  Cylon 
probably  represented  a  popular  feeling;  but  the^ 
State  was  not  yet  ripe  for  tyranny.  The  oligarchic 
executive  was  too  strong  for  him,  and  according  to 
the  story,  he  made  the  mistake  of  using  Megarian 
troops  to  seize  on  the  Acropolis.  This  brought  the 
oligarchy  and  the  people  for  the  moment  into  sym- 
pathy, and  the  Cylonians  were  besieged  in  the 
stronghold.  Cylon  himself  escaped,  but  Megacles 
the  archon,  of  the  great  family  of  the  Alcmgeonidse, 
put  the  rest  to  death  after  promising  to  spare  their 
lives ;  some  were  even  slain  at  the  altar  where  they 
had  taken  refuge.  The  story  is  most  striking,  as 
pointing  to  an  unwholesome  and  surprising  dis- 
regard of  honour  and  sanctuary  in  the  oligarchic 


128  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


executive,  which  looks  as  though  they  felt  they 
were  living  on  a  volcano  ready  at  any  time  to 
break  out  in  eruption,  and  must  at  all  risks  en- 
deavour to  check  the  popular  tendency.^ 

The  third  event  which  shows  disturbance  in 
Attica  is  the  most  singular  of  all.  Plutarch,  in 
describing  it,  uses  language  which  implies  that  the 
Athenian  State  was  suffering  from  a  malignant 
disease  in  religion  and  morals,  and  that  the  happy 
relations  between  the  human  and  divine  inhabitants 
of  Attica  were  seriously  deranged.  As  in  the  case 
of  bodily  disease,  this  cannot  be  ascribed  to  a  single 
event  only,  such  as  the  Cylonian  sacrilege ;  it  in- 
dicates an  unhealthy  condition.  Fear,  pestilence, 
disaster,  are  only  symptoms  of  a  general  demoralis- 
ation, caused  in  part  perhaps  by  the  rise  of  new  ideas 
and  the  introduction  of  new  and  strange  worships 
among  the  lower  classes.  The  remedy  was  curious ; 
they  sent  for  a  wise  man,  as  a  minister  of  religion, 
to  set  them  right.  The  mission  of  Epimenides  the 
Cretan  to  Athens  is  a  singular  example  of  that 
readiness  to  submit  their  troubles  to  a  master-mind 
which  is  characteristic  of  the  earlier  Greeks ;  it  is  in 
fact  no  more  than  the  tendency  towards  absolutism 
taking  an  unusual  form.  It  may  be  that  we  should 
see  in  it  the  first  public  recognition  of  certain  new 
worships  which  had  crept  into  Attica,  and  which 
were  afterwards  embodied  in  the  calendar  of  public 
feasts  by  Pisistratus,  on  behalf  of  the  lower  popula- 
tion whose  interests  he  represented.^     Epimenides, 

1  Thucyd.  i.  126  ;  Plut.  Solon,  12.     Cf.  Ath.  Pol.  i. 

2  Dyer,   Gods  in  Greece,  p.   125  foil.      For  Epimenides,   read 


V  FROM  ARISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  129 

according  to  tradition,  ordered  the  public  religion 
anew,  purified  the  country,  and  tranquillised  its  in- 
habitants for  a  time. 

These  three  events,  showing  stir  in  the  Athenian 
population,  prepare  us  for  the  approach  of  demo- 
cracy, and  through  democracy  for  the  ripening  of  the 
choicest  fruit  that  the  wonderful  Greek  people  ever 
produced.  But  democracy  could  not  even  approach 
without  still  greater  pain  and  trouble  than  we  have 
yet  met  with  in  Attica.  It  is  always  social  dis- 
content and  economical  distress  which  causes  friction 
between  a  people  and  its  rulers  to  become  a  positive 
danger  and  to  lead  to  revolution  and  anarchy ;  ^ 
while  an  unprivileged  class  is  still  materially  com- 
fortable, it  does  not  feel  keenly  its  want  of  privilege. 
The  unprivileged  at  Athens,  according  to  our  ac- 
counts, had  been  long  growing  more  and  more 
uncomfortable,  and  the  oligarchs  were  probably  well 
aware  that  revolution  was  at  hand.  Neither  the 
laws  of  Draco  nor  the  purification  by  Epimenides 
had  sufficed.  At  the  root  of  all  the  troubles  lay~l 
an  economical  distress,  which  is  thus  briefly  de- 
scribed by  the  author  of  the  treatise  on  the 
Athenian  constitution : — 

"  Not  only  was  the  constitution  at  this  time  oligarchical 
in  every  respect,  but  the  poorer  classes,  men,  women,  and 
children,  were  in  absolute  slavery  to  the  rich.  They  were 
known  as  Pelatse  and  also  as  Hektemori,  because  they  culti- 


Plut.   Solon,  12,  and  of.  the  mission  of  Demonax  to  Gyrene  in 
Herodotus,  iv.  162.     In  later  times  Timoleon  affords  a  parallel  on 
the  political  side  :  see  Plutarch's  Life  of  Timoleon. 
^  Aristotle  was  aware  of  this  :  Politics,  1297  B. 
K 


130  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

vated  the  lands  of  the  rich  for  a  sixth  part  of  the  produce. 
The  whole  country  was  in  the  hands  of  a  few  persons,  and 
if  the  tenants  failed  to  pay  their  rent,  they  were  liable  to  be 
haled  into  slavery,  and  their  children  with  them.  Their 
persons  were  mortgaged  to  their  creditors  .  .  .  ;  but  the 
hardest  and  bitterest  j)art  of  the  condition  of  the  masses  was 
the  fact  that  they  had  no  share  in  the  offices  then  existing 
under  the  constitution.  ...  To  speak  generally,  they  had 
no  part  or  share  in  anything."  ^ 

/      This  is  nothing  but   the  familiar  story  of  the 

'    accumulation  of  wealth  in  the  hands  of  a  few,  with 

the  usual  ethical  results  :  the  deterioration  of  aristo- 

'    cratic  character  into  plutocratic,  and  the  shifting  of 

the  sense  of  duty  from  the  State  as  its  object  to 

1^  individual  interests.       It  is  entirely  confirmed  by 

the  poems  of  Solon,  the  only  contemporary  evidence 

we  possess,  which  formed  no  doubt  the  basis  of  later 

accounts,  such  as  that  just,  quoted.      The  author  of 

the  treatise  himself  quotes  most  appositely  four  lines 

which  exactly  express  the  new  spirit  of  questioning 

as  well  as  its  chief  cause — 

"  But  ye  who  have  store  of  good,  who  are  sated  and  overflow, 
Restrain  your  swelling  soul,  and  still  it  and  keep  it  low  ; 
Let  the  heart  that  is  great  within  you  be  trained  a  lowlier 

way; 
Ye  shall  not  have  all  at  your  will,  and  we  will  not  for 

ever  obey."  ^ 

^  Ath.  Pol.  eh.  5.     Cf.  the  words  of  Plutarch,  Solon,  eh.  13  at 
end. 

'•^  i'fxeh  5'  ^cruxdcraires  evl  (ppeal  Kaprepov  ^Top, 
ot  TroXXwj/  dyadoju  is  Kopov  [-^XJdo-are, 
iv  p.eTpioi(JL  T[pe0ecr^]e  p-eyav  voov  oiire  yap  T)fieLS 
ireL<x6ixed\  ovd'  iiplv  dpria  Ta[vT]  eaerai. 

I  have  borrowed  Mr.  Kenyon's  spirited  translation.  These  lines 
were  new  to  us  when  the  treatise  was  discovered. 


V  FROM  ARISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  131 

111  the  last  few  generations  it  is  plain  that  the 
privileged  o^  Attica  have  become  richer,  and  the 
unprivileged  poorer.  This  was  a  disease  to  which 
the  City -State  was  always  peculiarly  liable,  as 
Aristotle  well  knew,^  and  we  shall  have  to  recur  to 
it  later  on ;  it  was  indeed  one  of  the  leading  causes 
of  the  ultimate  decay  of  this  form  of  State.  And 
in  Attica  wars,  bad  harvests,  increasing  commerce, 
pestilence,  and  the  harsh  law  of  debt,  all  had  their 
share  in  magnifying  the  disproportion  between 
wealth  and  poverty,  and  between  the  political 
power  of  the  rich  and  the  political  helplessness  of 
the  poor."  Yet  it  was  the  peculiar  good  fortune  of 
Athens  that,  severely  attacked  as  she  was  by  troubles 
of  this  kind,  she  found  a  physician  so  single-minded 
and  so  self-restrained  that  she  had  good  reason  to 
be  for  ever  fateful  to  him.  Solon,  the  friend  of! 
Epimenides,  was  Archon  in  594  (the  traditional 
date)  ;  and  in  due  accordance  with  the  tendency 
we  have  been  pointing  out,  he  was  also  then  or 
shortly  afterwards  entrusted  with  an  abnormal 
power  which  placed  him  in  the  position  of  arbiter, 
and  was  even  pressed  in  some  quarters  to  become  \ 
tyrant — ^^a  temptation  he  steadily  refused. 

Solon  and  his  work  form  a  most  important  land- 
mark in  the  history  of  the  City-State.  He  made 
it  possible  for  one  such  State  at  least  to  reach  the 
highest  point  of  development  of  which  this  form  of 
social  union  was  capable.  He  was  at  once  the 
prophet  and  the  lawgiver  of  Athens,  whose  memory 

1  e.g.  Politics,  1301  B. 
'  Read  Plut.  Solon,  8,  12,  13. 


132  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

was  cherished  by  his  people  with  profound  rever- 
ence. Whether  his  laws  gave  satisfaction  at  the 
moment,  whether  they  were  retained  in  the  next 
generation,  whether  they  were  wholly  the  issue  of 
his  own  reasoning  or  based  in  part  on  the  work 
of  a  predecessor,^ — these  are  questions  of  minor 
moment  compared  with  tlie  undoubted  fact  that  the 
spirit  of  Solon's  life ,  and  character  never  wholly 
vanished  ^m  Athens.  And  if  we  are  to  explain 
this  immortality  of  a  great  man's  life,  we  can  do  so 
by  applying  to  it  a  commonplace  epithet,  with  a 
tinge  of  special  meaning  in  this  instance :  it  was 
eminently  reasoMMc  In  a  famous  passage  Aris,- 
totle  defines  leiw  as  reason  tvith^^  of  this 

principle  Solon  was  the  personification.  And  his 
importance  to  us  in  following  out  the  history  of  the 
City-State  lies  in  the  fact  that  with  him,  in  the 
development  of  tlie  most  perfect  state  of  antiquity, 
begins  the  age  of  reason  as  applied  to  politics. 
Long  ages  of  acquiescence  had  been  followed  by  an 
age  of  discontent  and  questioning ;  under  the  guid- 
ance of  the  wise  spirit  of  Solon's  life,  passion  is 
\^ventually  stilled,  and  reason  takes  its  place.  This 
benevolent  influence  is  visible,  not  only  in  the 
gratitude  of  the  Athenians,  but  in  the  true  ring 
of  Solon's  own  poems,  in  every  story  that  is 
told  of  him  by  Herodotus,  and  in  the  life  which, 
seven   centuries   later,   the  last  of  the  true  Greek 

^  The  Solonian  division  of  the  people  is  ascribed  by  the  author 
of  the  "Athenian  Constitution"  to  Draco  in  the  first  place;  see 
chapters  iv.  and  vii. 

2  Politics,  iii.  16,  5,  1287  A. 


n 


V  FROM  ARISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  133 

men  of  letters  compiled  with  evident  delight  and 
reverence. 

Without    going    unnecessarily    into  the   details) 
of   an  oft- told    story,    let   us  ^briefly  see  in  what 
the  reasonableness  of  Solon's  work  consisted.     All 
political   progress  of  which   the   conscious   or    un- 
conscious aim  is  to  develop  the  resources,  material 
and  intellectual,  of  a  whole  people,  ought    to   bej 
accompanied  by  social  and  economic  reform.     We 
in  England,  after   1832,  were  slow  to   realise  this 
principle.       Our  political  leaders   did  not  at  first 
perceive  that  a  new  population  had  arisen  among 
us,  suggesting  many  new  problems  which  could  not 
be  solved  by  political  legislation  alone.^    It  is  partly 
owing  to  this  that  our  proletariat  is  still  in  ferment- 
ation, i.e.  socially  and  economically  uncomfortable, 
though,  owing  to  political  changes,  it  has  a  powerful 
hold    on    the   executive   which   governs  it.      Now 
the  reasonableness  of  Solon  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  : 
he  combined  social,  economic,  and  political  reform.:  ' 
The    problems    before   the   Greek    statesman   were  j 
always  simpler  and  on  a  smaller  scale  than  those 
of  the  modern  State ;  and  Solon  was  able  to  take 
in  at  a  glance  the  whole  of  his  field  of  work,  and 
to  deal  with  it  step  by  step.      He  did  not  give  the\ 
"  people  "  political  weight  without  also  giving  them 
the   material   means   of  maintaining   it ;  nor,  con- 
versely,   did    he    aid    them    economically    without 

1  It  is  worth  noting  that  the  man  of  that  generation  who  saw 
this  fact,  and  gave  utterance  to  it,  was  a  Tory  man  of  letters.  See 
the  list  of  Southey's'  proposals  for  social  and  economic  reform,  in 
Dowden's  Life  of  him  (English  Men  of  Letters  Series),  p.  154. 


134  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


giving  them  a  political  status  by  means  of  which 
they  might  care  for  themselves  in  future.  His 
"work  is  therefore  complete ;  and  if  we  would  speak 
of  him  in  terms  appropriate  to  Hellenic  life,  we 
might  call  him  the  perfect  Greek  artist  in  the 
region  of  politics,  \yho  breathed  a  new  spirit  into 
what  was  conventional,  and  whose  sense  of  pro- 
portion, order,  and  beauty  were  all  kept  in  due 
subjection  to  the  needs  of  everyday  life.^ 

The  intent  and  the  general  character  of  Solon's 
first  measures  have  an  objective  reality  for  us  which 
is  rare  in  ancient  history,  owing  to  the  preservation 
of  large  fragments  of  his  poems.    It  is  plain  from  his 
own  words  that  he  meant  not  only  to  relieve  imme- 
diate distress,  but  to  prevent  the  poor  of  Attica  from 
ever  falling  into  servitude  a  second  time.      In  other 
/  words,  he  wished  to  see  a  vigorous  and  industrious 
class  in  Attica,  which  should  stand  midway  between 
the  rich  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  increasing  slave 
(^population    on   the    other.     All  outstanding  debts 
"j   incurred   on    the  security   of  land  or  person  were 
absolutely  cancelled ;  the  families  who  had  been  in 
a  condition  of  serfdom  were  thereby  freed ;  those 
who   had  preferred  exile  to  bondage  could  return 

^  The  admirable  words  used  by  Professor  Butcher  of  the  Greek 
artist  might  almost  equally  well  be  applied  to  Solon:  "We  are 
always  conscious  of  a  reserve  of  power,  a  temperate  strength  which 
knows  its  own  resources  and  employs  them  without  effort  and  vntli- 
out  ostentation.  ...  He  is  bent  on  seeing  truly,  on  seeing  har- 
moniously, and  on  expressing  what  he  sees.  The  materials  on 
which  his  imagination  works  are  fused  and  combined  according  to 
the  laws  of  what  is  possible,  reasonable,  natural." — Some  Asj)ects, 
etc.,  p.  332. 


V  FROM  ARISTOCEACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  135 

home ;  and  the  marks  of  hopeless  mortgaging  dis-    \ 
appeared    from    the    land.       Men    who    had    lost    \ 
their   land  entirely  could  not   indeed    recover   it ;   f 
but   Solon  seems   to   have    tried    to   give   these   a   ) 
new  start   in   life   by   turning    their   attention    to  ( 
art  and  trade.     To  cheapen  the  ordinary  products 
of  the  country  he  forbade  their  exportation,  except 
in  the  case   of   olive  oil,  of  which  there  was   the 
greatest   abundance.     To  bring  Athens  into  closer 
connection  with  the  great  trading  and    colonising 
cities  of  Chalcis   and    Corinth  he    introduced    the 
Euboic  coinage,  which  was  in  use  there,  in  place  of 
the  older  system  of  Athens'  natural  enemies,  ^ginaj 
and  Megara.     Many  other  measures  are  mentioned, 
of  which  the  general  purpose  seems  to  have  been 
the   same — to  revive  native  industry,  to  keep  the 
population  employed,  and  so  to  enable  all  to  acquire 
a  certain  amount  of  wealth.^     Equality  in  the  dis- 
tribution of  wealth  has  never  yet  been  realised,  but 
absence  of  startling  inequality  was  the  safeguard  of 
the  City- State.      Aristotle  long  afterwards  pointed 
out  this  law  in  an  admirable  chapter,  which  is  as 
true  now  as  on  the  day  on  which  he  wrote  it.^     It 
is  destruction,  he  teaches,  for  a  city  to  be  made  up 
of  masters   and   slaves,  and   not  of  men  who  are 
really,  as  well  as  technically,  free.     The  State  is  a 
social  union  of  friends,  and  would  be,  if  it  could, 

1  For  the  Seisactheia,  read  especially  Plut.  Solon,  li-17,Ath.  Pol. 
6,  and  Solon's  Poems,  fragments  4  and  36.  Useful  summaries  of 
other  evidence  will  be  found  in  Busolt,  Gr.  Gesch.  i.  524,  and 
Gilbert,  i.  130. 

-  Pol.  1295  A  and  B,  on  the  advantages  of  to  ix^cov.  Cf. 
Newman,  vol.  i.  502,  note  1. 


136  .  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

composed  of  men  who  are  equal  in  wealth  and  influ- 
ence. With  a  strong  intermediate  class  of  moderate 
wealth  it  may  most  nearly  realise  its  aim,  and  avoid 
the  supreme  danger  of  all  small  States — the  bitter- 
ness of  party  strife.  Aristotle  reasoned  thus  from 
the  facts  of  Hellenic  life  as  they  had  been  for  a 
century  and  more  before  his  time.  He  knew  that 
the  mischief  for  which  he  was  prescribing  a  remedy 
had  already  half  ruined  Greece,  and  that  the  instinct 
of  the  best  Greek  statesmen,  such  as  the  ideal 
Lycurgus,  Solon,  Charondas,  had  led  them  to  fore- 
see and  attempt  to  avert  it.  His  chapter  is  a 
protest,  on  behalf  of  the  State,  against  the  greed  of 
the  individual,  and  strikes  the  keynote  of  all  truly 
Greek  political  reasoning. 
'Y^  But  if  Solon  had  contented  himself  with  simply 
/  shaking  off  the  burdens  from  the  shoulders  of  the 
/  poor,  his  work  would  have  been  left  but  half  done. 
/  They  must  also  be  secured  against  the  binding  of 
these  burdens  afresh  on  their  backs  by  an  oligarchy 
of  wealth  which  also  held  the  reins  of  government. 
As  we  saw  at  the  end  of  the  last  chapter,  the  strength 
of  the  executive  power  is  the  chief  characteristic 
both  of  the  early  monarchies  and  aristocracies ;  and 
in  this  chapter  we  have  already  seen  how  a  degener- 
ate aristocracy  could  use  that  strength  for  their  own 
advantage,  rather  than  for  the  benefit  of  the  State 
as  a  whole.  Somehow  the  ruled  must  be  protected 
permanently  against  their  rulers.  If  they  were  not 
yet  ripe  to  rule  themselves, — and  Solon's  reasonable 
mind  fully  recognised  the  fact  that  they  were  wholly 
ignorant  of  the  art  which  it  had  been  the  task  of 


V  FROM  ARISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  137 

the  aristocracies  to  discover, — they  were  at  least 
qualified,  by  sad  experience,  to  judge  of  the  use  of 
such  power,  and  to  name  the  persons  whom  they 
would  wish  to  see  exercising  it.^ 

Whatever  doubt  may  exist  as  to  some  parts  of 
Solon's  constitutional  changes,  we  may  treat  it  as 
a  fact  that  he  gave  the  ordinary  Athenian  citizen 
exactly  that  share  of  power  for  which  he  was 
naturally  fitted ;  and  here  again  he  stands  out  as 
representing  a  great  epoch  in  the  development  of 
the  City-State.  His  object  was  gained  chiefly  by  two  | 
simple  and  efficacious  changes.  First,  the  body  of 
Athenian  citizens,  comprised  in  the  ancient  tribes, 
phratries,  and  'yevrj,  was  classified  afresh  on  the  basis 
of  the  yearly  return  from  the  land  owned  by  each 
individual,  without  any  regard  to  his  descent,  whether 
noble  or  ignoble.  The  first  class  must  have  a  mini- 
mum return  of  500  medimni,  or  roughly  a  capital 
of  one  talent  (£244) ;  in  the  fourth  and  lowest 
(Thetes)  were  all  who  had  a  less  return  from  land 
than  150  medimni,  or  derived  their  income,  not 
from  land,  but  from  trade.  Secondly,  on  this 
economic  basis,  in  place  of  the  old  social  one  of 
Eupatridae,  Georgi,  and  Demiurgi,  was  fitted  what 
was  practically  a  new  constitution.  TheArchonship\> 
was  reserved  for  the  first  class,  or  Pentakosio-  ( 
medimni ;  the  other  offices  were  open  to  the  three 
highest  classes,  to  those,  that  is,  who  had  the  neces- 

^  Cf.  Aristotle,  Politics,  iii.  11,  1281  B;  a  valuable  chapter, 
which  may  at  this  point  be  studied  with  great  advantage.  Aris- 
totle is  here  discussing  the  question  in  the  abstract,  "  What 
share  may  the  many  justly  have  in  a  constitution  ? " 


138  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

sary  education,  and  a  considerable  stake  in  the 
welfare  of  the  State.  But  Solon's  great  stroke 
was  the  elevation  of  the  lowest  class,  not  indeed 
to  the  executive  itself,  but  to  a  position  in  the 
constitution  whence  it  could,  as  it  were,  survey 
and  control  that  executive.  They  were  to  share  in 
the  elections  of  the  magistrates,  and  all  over  thirty 
years  of  age  were  to  have  the  right  of  sitting  in  an 
assembly  which  should  judge  of  the  conduct  of  the 
magistrates  after  their  year  of  office  was  over.  If 
these  constitutional  changes  were  maintained,  no 
magistrate,  whatever  his  b'irth  or  wealth,  could  ever 
with  impunity  use  his  power  to  trample  on  the 
rights  of  the  poorest  Athenian.  It  is  possible  that 
he  also  guaranteed  to  the  whole  people  in  their 
ancient  assembly  (eK/cXijo-La)  the  right,  which  must 
have  in  theory  been  theirs  always,  of  deciding  on 
V_  questions  of  war  and  peace. -^ 

These  changes  did  not  constitute  Democracy, — a 
form  of  government  then  unknown,  and  for  which 
there  was  as  yet  no  word  in  the  Greek  language. 
But  they  initiated  the  democratic  spirit,  and  were 
indeed  changes  vital  enough  to  alarm  men  who  did 
not  know  the  reasonableness  of  the  Athenian  people 
and  its  lawgiver.  As  if  aware  that  he  was  bring- 
ing  into    political   prominence   a  new   stratum    of 

^  Busolt,  Gr.  Gcsch.  i.  536,  note  1,  For  Solon's  constitution, 
read  Pint.  Solon,  18  foil.  ;  Solon,  fragment  5  ;  Aristotle,  Pol.  ii. 
12  ;  Atli.  Pol.  7.  Cf.  Busolt  and  Gilbert,  ll.cc.  The  reader,  per- 
haps, needs  to  be  reminded  that  in  any  independent  study  of 
Solon's  work,  he  must  weigh  the  value  of  the  ancient  authorities 
both  in  regard  to  their  intrinsic  excellence  and  to  the  sources  to 
which  they  may  lie  traced. 


V  FROM  ARISTOCKACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  139 

population  whose  temper  was  uncertain,  and  wlio 
could  not  be  held  responsible  for  their  public  con- 
duct, Solon  himself  endeavoured  to  guard  against  any< 
misuse  of  their  power.  /  To  the  old  Council  of  the 
Areopagus,  consisting  of  ex-Archons,  he  entrusted  the 
task, — probably  no  new  one, — of  superintending  the  \ 
working  of  the  constitution,  and  of  guarding  the 
interests  of  public  and  private  morality.  ^^To  him 
also  is  ascribed  the  establishment  of  another  Council 
of  400,  of  which  we  shall  hear  more,  constituting  a 
committee  of  the  whole  people,  but  chosen  yearly 
from  the  first  three  classes.^  And  lastly,  it  is 
j)robable,  though  we  ciannot  indeed  be  sure  of 
our  details  here,  that  Solon  endeavoured  by  other  [ 
laws  to  educate  the  people  in  morality  and  self- 
respect,  to  curb  luxury  as  he  discouraged  idleness, 
and  as  he  had  freed  them  from  the  hard  bondage  of 
custom  and  convention,  so  also  to  direct  them  on 
the  road  towards  intellectual  as  well  as  political^ 
liberty.^ 

Solon's  work  did  but  aid  the  natural  development 
of  germs  already  in  existence.  It  was  simply  the 
turning  of  the  light  of  a  rare  and  sympathetic 
wisdom  on  the  opening  bud  at  a  critical  moment. 
In  spite  of  cloud  and  storm,  the  bud  expanded 
slowly  and  naturally  into  bloom,  and  ripened  at 
last  into  the  choicest  fruit.  Athens,  thus  fairly 
started  on  her  w^ay, — emancipated  from  the  discip- 
line of  aristocratic  schoolmasters,  and  growing  into 
an  age  of  manly  liberty  and  self-restraint, — came 

1  Abbott,    Hist,   of  Greece,   vol.   i.  419   foil.  ;    Holm,   i.  472  ; 
Plutarch,  Solon,  21-23. 


f^ 


140  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

eventually  nearer  to  the  ideal  of  "  the  good  life " 
(see  p.  59)  than  any  other  State  in  Hellas.  But 
Ve  must  now  leave  Athens  for  a  while,  and  turn  to 
see  how,  in  other  parts  of  Greece,  this  natural 
development  of  the  City -State  was  for  a  while 
(  retarded,  and  in  many  cases  permanently  checked. 
The  tendency  towards  absolutism,  or,  if  we  like 
so  to  call  it,  the  reaction  to  monarchy,  which  was 
so  characteristic  of  this  age,  might,  and  did,  show 
itself  even  more  often  in  the  shape  of  what  the 
Greeks  called  tyranny,  than  in  the  milder  form  of 
the  philosophic  arbiter.  What,  then,  precisely  did 
a  Greek  understand  by  a  tyrant, — a  word  probably 
borrowed  by  him  from  some  Oriental  tongue  ? 
Herodotus,  writing  some  century  and  a  half  later 
than  Solon,  but  with  all  the  traditions  of  that  period 
fresh  in  his  mind,  describes  the  tyrant  in  memorable 
words  put  dramatically  into  the  mouth  of  a  Per- 
sian.^ "  How  can  a  monarchy  be  a  convenient  thing, 
wielding  power  as  it  does  without  responsibility  ? 
The  best  man  in  the  world,  in  such  a  position,  will 
find  himself  outside  the  pcde  of  the  ideas  in  which 
he  has  been  trained.  A  reckless  pride  is  bred  in 
him  of  his  present  good  fortune,  while  envy  is 
natural   to   him  as  to   every  man.      In   these  two 

^  Herod,  iii.  80.  Here  Herodotus,  as  more  or  less  throughout 
his  work,  does  not  exactly  distinguish  monarchy  and  tyranny,  as 
Aristotle  did  later.  It  should  in  fact  be  noted  that  a  legitimate 
Basileus  might  become  a  tyrant  {e.g.  Pheidon  of  Argos),  though  a 
tyrant  of  the  genuine  kind  could  never  become  a  Basileus.  See 
Freeman,  Hist,  of  Sicihj,  ii.  53,  and  431  foil.  Cf.  Herod,  v.  92, 
sec.  20,  where  Cypselus  in  the  oracle  is  styled  Basileus,  as  being  a 
tyrant  descended  from  a  royal  family.    Cf.  v.  44. 


V  FROM  ARISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  141 

flaws  he  possesses  every  vice ;  filled  full  with  pride, 
he  commits  many  reckless  acts,  and  the  envy  in 
him  has  the  same  result.  .  .  .  He  is  jealous  of  the 
best  men,  his  contemporaries,  while  they  survive, 
and  rejoices  in  the  worst  of  the  citizens.^  He 
hears  slander  with  the  utmost  delight.  He  is  of 
all  men  the  most  inconsistent;  for  if  you  praise 
him  but  moderately,  he  is  angry  with  you  for  not 
making  more  of  him,  while  if  you  adoise  him  to  the 
utmost  he  hates  you  as  a  fawner.  .  And  now  I 
shall  sum  up  with  the  worst  of  all  his  wickednesses  : 
he  disturbs  the  traditions  of  his  State,  he  violates 
women,  and  slays  men  without  trial."  To  this 
graphic  picture  we  may  add  the  concise  definition 
of  Aristotle :  "  Tyranny  is  monarchy  used  for  the 
advantage  of  the  monarch."  ^ 

These  two  passages  may  suffice  to  show  us  what 
the  thinking  Greek  understood  by  the  word,  and 
how  he  regarded  the  thing.  The  tj^ical  Tyrant 
did  not  represent  the  State  and  its  needs  ;  he  repre- 
sented his  own  interests  only.^  Tyranny  in  this 
aspect  was  therefore  a  thing  utterly  alien  to  that 
true  and  fruitful  Greek  life  which  was  inseparable 
from  the  State  both  in  thought  and  fact.  Even  the 
best  of  tyrants,  as  Herodotus  puts  it  in  his  own 
inimitable  way,  must  leave  the  circle  of  ideas  in 
which  he  has  hitherto  lived.      He  lives   no   longer 

^  Herodotus  is  here  intentionally  using  the  language  of  the  Greek 
oligarch.  See  p.  119.  It  is  not  clear  that  he  is  here  stating  his 
owTi  view  of  tyranny  ;  but  his  description  represents  one  view 
which  was  current  in  Greece  in  his  day. 

2  Pol.  iii.  7,  5.  •  More  fully  in  vi.  (iv.)  10  (1295  A). 

»  Thuc.  1.  17. 


142  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

ill  the  air  which  every  true  Greek  must  breathe, 
the  air  of  the  free  vroXt?,  invigorating  both  to  body 
and  mind.  When  Self  takes  the  place  of  State,  as 
the  pivot  on  which  social  life  works,  that  life  ceases 
to  be  natural,  loses  its  sap  and  its  principle  of 
growth,  develops  abnormal  tendencies  and  strange 
monstrosities  of  character.      And  we  cannot  be  far 

Avrong  in  concluding  that  as,  in  Aristotelian  lan- 

'  guage  (see  p.  60),  the  end  {reko^)  of  tyranny  is 
not  "  the  good  life,"  but  the  good  of  an  individual, 
it  must  be  considered  as  marking  a  backward 
current  in  the  stream  of  social  development.  It 
is  a  disease,  not  a    natural  growth ;     a  return  to 

/monarchy,  but  to  monarchy  in  a  debased  form. 

Yet  it  is  possible  to  criticise  the  trite  definition 
of  Aristotle,  and  to  correct,  even  from  his  own 
history,  the  view  of  Herodotus  which  has  just 
been  quoted.  It  does  not  follow  that  the  interests 
of  an  individual  autocrat  need  be  irreconcilable 
with  those  of  his  State,  nor  that  every  such 
autocrat   should  be   drawn   into  weak  and  wicked 

/  ponduct .  such  as  Herodotus  describes.  However 
true  it  may  be  in  the  main  that  tyranny  was  a 
backward  movement,  it  is  quite  possible  that  the 
hatred  of  the  high-born  men  to  whose  rule  the 
tyrants  put  an  end,-^  and  the  inborn  dislike  of  the 
average  Greek  for  all  individualism,  may  have 
handed  down  the  memory  of  many  tyrants  in  an 
unjustly    evil    light.     Let    us    note  two   or    three 

ppoints  in  which  the  interest  of  the  tyrant  might, 

^  These  are  the  men,  it  should  be  noted,  in  wiiese  hands  was 
the  literature  of  that  age. 


( 


V  FROM  ARISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  143 

and  in  many  cases  actually  did,  coincide  with  the  i 
interest  of  the  State. 

If  an  oligarchy  were  particularly  narrow  and] 
oppressive,  and  affairs  were  rapidly  drawing  towards 
an  epoch  of  party  violence,  a  tyrant  might  for  a  time 
disarm  both  combatants,  and  by  weakening  the 
stronger  might  relatively  strengthen  the  weaker. 
Most  of  the  great  tyrants  of  Greece  rose  to  power 
by  the  help  of  the  people,  and  all  set  themselves 
in  self-defence  to  weaken  the  oligarchies.^  In  a 
certain  sense,  as  in  our  own  history  with  the 
absolutism  of  the  Tudors,  the  disease  of  tyranny 
had  eventually  in  many  States  a  healing  effect ;  it 
brought  out  latent  possibilities  in  the  State  by 
bringing  forward  a  new  population  with  new  ideas 
and  new  worships,  and  in  some  cases,  as  in  the 
Peloponnese,  one  of  a  different  race  from  the  ) 
oligarchies  which  had  so  long  ruled  it.^ 

Again,  the  tyrant,  if  he  were  a  man  of  educa- 
tion (and  he  frequently  belonged  to  the  cultured 
oligarchy  itself),  would  naturally  use  his  power  to 
adorn  his  city  with  works  Of  art.  He  wished  his 
fame  to  spread  through  Hellas,  and  he  knew  the 
kind  of  glory  that  would  appeal  to  the  Hellenic 
mind.  He  would  try  to  make  his  city,  as  it  were, 
a  university  of  literature  and  art ;  and  in  fact  we 
find  that  Simonides,  Pindar,  ^schylus,  and   other 

^  Ar.  Pol.  viii.  (v.),  p.  1305  A;  cf.  Herod,  iii.  80,  8,  as 
quoted  above,  and  the  memorable  advice  given  by  Periander  to 
Thrasybnlus,  or,  as  Herod,  has  it  (v.  92,  26),  by  Thras.  to  Per. 
Busolt,  Gr.  Gesch.  i.  note. 

"  Of  this  our  best  example  is  Cleistlienes  of  Sicyon  ;  cf.  Herod. 
V.  67,  vi.  126. 


144  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAi'. 

poets  could  make  long  journeys  to  visit  a  large-hearted 
and  open-handed  tyrant,  and  were  not  ashamed  to 
enjoy  his  patronage  or  to  sing  his  praises.  It  is 
beyond  doubt  that  both  poetry  and  the  plastic  arts 
owed  much  to  the  wealth  and  to  the  honourable 
pride  of  these  despots.  Here  and  there,  at  least, 
a  tyrant's  self-regarding  aims,  so  far  from  hindering 
the  education  of  the  Greek  mind,  positively  did 
much  to  advance  it.^ 

And  once  more,  the  tyrant,  in  the  very  fact  that 
he  was  out  of  harmony  with  the  true  Greek  social 
life,  was  of  some  use  in  widening  its  boundaries, — 
always  apt  to  be  somewhat  confining.  He  stepped 
for  the  moment  beyond  the  limits  of  the  iroXt^,  and 
as  he  rose  to  fame  might  venture  on  alliance  or 
friendship  with  the  despots  of  distant  cities,  or  even 
with  the  great  monarchies  that  lay  beyond  Hellas. 
Such  startling  steps  could  hardly  be  taken  by  the 
City-State  in  its  ordinary  and  natural  life,  which,  as 
we  saw,  must  be  as  independent  as  possible  of  aid 
from  other  States.^  But  the  great  tyrant  rose  alto- 
gether beyond  these  limits,  and  modelled  himself 
rather  on  Eastern  than  on  Greek  ideas ;  he  dreamt 
perhaps  of  empire,  he  built  a  navy,  he  stimulated 

1  Hiero  of  Syracuse,  in  the  fifth  century,  is  the  most  sjilendid 
example  of  this  tendency  of  the  tyrants.  See  especially  Freeman, 
Hist,  of  Sicily,  vol.  ii.  256-289.  Polycrates,  Periander,  and  the 
Pisistratidse  can  all  be  studied  in  Herodotus  from  the  same 
point  of  view. 

2  The  contrast  between  the  far-reaching  plans  of  the  tyrant 
and  the  strict  conventionalism  of  the  typical  7r6\iy  is  expressed 
with  all  Herodotus's  consummate  skill  in  the  interview  between 
Aristagoras  of  Miletus  and  Cleomenes  of  Sparta  (v.  49). 


V  FROM  ARISTOCRACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  145 

commerce,  he  allied  himself  with  the  lower  or  trading 
classes.  And  in  such  ways,  even  while  seeking  his  own 
glory,  and  violating  the  most  vital  principles  of  the 
older  Greek  life,  he  opened  the  eyes  of  the  Greeks  to' 
things  that  lay  beyond  their  narrow  bounds,  and 
had  never  been  dreamed  of  in  their  philosophy 
since  the  age  of  Mycenae,  before  the  true  State  had 
come  into  being.  Even  in  plotting  with  the  Per- 
•sians  against  Greece,  his  very  selfishness  revealed  to 
the  Greeks  the  dangers  which  surrounded  them, 
and  the  want  of  union  of  which  their  system  of 
City- States  was  the  chief  cause. 

It  is  not  possible,  within  the  scope  of  this 
chapter,  to  illustrate  these  and  other  characteristics 
of  tyranny  from  recorded  facts.  But  the  reader  has 
only  to  take  up  his  Herodotus,  and  to  read  the 
stories  of  men  like  Cleisthenes  of  Sicyon,  Periander 
of  Corinth,  Gelo  of  Syracuse,  Polycrates  of  Samos, 
Aristagoras  of  Miletus,  and  Pisistratus  at  Athens, 
in  order  to  realise  for  himself  how  in  various  ways, 
both  for  good  and  for  evil,  the  tyrant  overstepped 
the  limits  of  "  the  ideas  in  which  he  (and  all 
Greeks)  had  been  trained."  Only  let  him  remem- 
ber that  every  word  and  every  phrase  of  Herodotus 
are  worth  close  attention,  and  that  he  is  not  to  be 
read  like  a  modern  book  in  which  words  and  phrases 
are  often  of  little  more  account  than  the  paper  on 
which  they  are  printed.  To  use  the  felicitous  lan- 
guage of  a  true  Greek  scholar,  Herodotus'  finished 
art  "  preserved  unimpaired  the  primitive  energy  of 
words  ;"^  and  in  the  fresh  light  of  those  words  we 

^  Professor  Butcher,  Some  Aspects,  etc.,  p.  16. 
L 


146  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

can  still  see  in  clearest  outline,  if  not  always  the 
actual  facts  themselves,  at  least  the  impression  they 
had  left  on  the  mind  of  the  open-eyed  Greek  of  an 
age  when  knowledge  was  not  derived  from  books, 
but  from  memory  and  the  spoken  word. 

But  let  me  conclude  this  chapter  by  a  rapid 
glance  at  a  single  mighty  tj^rant,  as  he  lives  for 
ever  in  the  pages  of  Herodotus.  The  City- State 
of  Samos,  with  its  territory  of  the  island  of  the 
same  name,  had  been  ruled  by  an  oligarchy  till 
about  the  year  537  b.c.^  "  Then  Polycrates,  son  of 
^aces,  rose  up  and  laid  his  hand  on  Samos.  At 
first  he  shared  his  power  with  his  two  brothers ; 
but  soon  he  slew  one  and  drove  out  the  other. 
Then  he  sent  gifts  to  Amasis,  king  of  Eg}^3t,  and 
receiving  others  in  return,  became  his  friend  and 
ally  ;  and  to  such  a  pitch  of  prosperity  did  he  attain 
that  his  fame  was  spread  abroad  throughout  Ionia 
and  the  whole  of  Hellas.  Wherever  he  set  out 
with  fleet  or  army,  good  luck  followed  him ;  he 
owned  a  hundred  ships  of  war,  and  had  a  thousand 
archers  for  a  bodyguard.  He  went  about  capturing 
and  plundering  without  respect  of  persons,  for  lie 
used  to  say  that  he  could  oblige  a  friend  more  by 
returning  what  he  had  taken  from  him,  than  by 
leaving  his  property  wholly  untouched.  His  power 
extended  over  many  of  the  islands  and  over  many 
towns  on  the  coast ;  and  when  the  Lesbians  came 
to  help  Miletus  in  warding  off  his  attack,  he  beat 
and   captured   them  with   his   fleet,  and   those  Les- 

^  Herod,  iii.  39,  120  ;   Polynenus,  i.  23,  2.      The  jmssage  in  the 
text  is  paraphrased  from  Herodotus. 


V  FROM  ARISTOCEACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  147 

bians  had  to  dig  in  fetters  the  whole  circle  of  the 
foss  around  his  city- wall  at  Sainos." 

Nothing  can  show  more  clearly  than  these  graphic 
sentences  that  Polycrates  had  passed  the  boundary 
of  "  the  ideas  in  which  he  had  been  trained."  He 
is  not  only  the  master  of  a  ttoX^?,  but  the  founder 
of  a  naval  empire  in  the  -^gean.^  He  knows  no 
law,  civil  or  moral;  he  respects  neither  property 
nor  person,  but  appropriates  the  one  and  binds  the 
other  in  chains.  And  yet,  while  the  end  of  all  his 
actions  was  his  own  glory,  he  made  his  city  famous 
in  Greece ;  for  even  if  the  three  wonders  of 
Samos, — the  great  tunnel,"  the  mole  in  the  harbour, 
and  the  magnificent  temple, — were  not  all  of  them 
projected  or  even  completed  by  him,  he  left  behind 
him  a  name  as  a  great  employer  of  labour,  and  as  a 
munificent  patron  of  artists.  Theodorus,  the  en- 
graver of  the  tyrant's  famous  ring,  and  Ehcecus, 
the  architect  of  the  temple,  were  natives  of  Samos 
in  his  age.  We  know,  too,  that  poets  were  welcome 
at  his  court,  and  that  Ibycus  and  Anakreon  lived 
and  sang  there ;  and  the  greatest  physician  of  that 
age,  Democedes  of  Croton,  was  glad  to  obtain  his 
patronage.^ 

In  two  other  points  Polycrates  is  typical  as  a 
tyrant.  First,  he  held  out  a  friendly  hand  to  the 
empires  beyond  Hellas.  Wlien  Amasis  repudiated 
his  alliance,  he  offered  help  to  Cambyses  in  his  attack 

^  Herod,  iii.  122.     He  stands  half-way  between  the  legendary 
empire  of  Minos  and  the  later  Athenian  empire. 

2  Herod,  iii.  41,  60.     The  tunnel,   or  aqueduct,   has  recently 
been  discovered.     Busolt,  Gr.  Gesch.  i.  603. 

3  Herod,  iii.  121,  131  :   cf.  125. 


148  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

on  Egypt,  doing  a  black  deed  in  despatching  to  the 
Persian's  aid  a  fleet  of  forty  triremes,  manned  by  all 
the  high-born  Samians  whom  he  most  feared  and 
hated,  in  order  to  bring  them  to  an  evil  end.  And 
secondly,  his  power  is  short  -  lived ;  for  while 
negotiating  with  a  Persian  satrap  for  the  acqui- 
sition of  wealth  which  would  have  made  him 
master  of  Hellas,  he  fell  into  a  trap,  little  recking 
that  he  was  in  the  way  of  the  Persian  power,  and 
died  a  cruel  and  disgraceful  death.^  Nemesis,  so 
the  Greeks  thought,  must  assuredly  lay  her  aveng- 
ing hand  on  all  who  overstepped  those  limits  of 
power  and  fortune  within  which  the  State,  and  not 
the  Individual,  was  the  true  end  of  life. 

One  more  word  before  we  leave  the  tyrants. 
The  love  of  gain,  of  power  and  position  above  the 
laws  and  conventionalities  of  the  State,  was  a 
common  phenomenon  in  Greek  history,  and  is  seen 
not  only  in  tyrants  like  Polycrates,  but  in  kings 
and  even  ordinary  citizens  of  the  best  ordered 
TToXei?,  such  as  Cleomenes  and  Pausanias  of  Sparta, 
and  Themistocles  and  Alcibiades  of  Athens.  And 
the  explanation  is  surely  to  be  found  in  the  very 
nature  of  the  City-State  itself  In  its  normal  type 
it  was  too  small,  too  narrow,  too  much  bound  down 
by  fixed  traditions,  and  by  a  single  rule  of  life,  to 
give^^heindividuaT  free  play,  or  even  always  fair 
play.  To  its  model  he  must  conform,  or  overstep 
the  limits  of  "  the  ideas  in  which  he  has  grown  up." 
Human  nature  is  everywhere  such  that  there  will 
always  be  found  rebels  against  the  drill  of  a  social- 

1  Herod,  iii.  43,  44,  120-126. 


V  FROM  APJSTOCEACY  TO  DEMOCRACY  149 

Hstic  system ;  and  the  stricter  that  drill,  and  the 
smaller  the  State,  the  more  lawless  will  be  the 
rebellion  of  the  individual.  Athens  alone  among 
Greek  States,  and  that  not  without  risk  both  for 
herself  and  Greece,  solved  for  a  time  the  problem  of 
developing  the  best  fruits  of  individual  genius  and 
ambition  through,  and  together  with,  the  full  glory 
of  the  City-State. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    REALISATION    OF    DEMOCRACY:    ATHENS 

1  SAID  at  the  end  of  the  last  chapter  that  Athens 
alone,  of  all  the  City-States  of  antiquity,  solved  for 
a  time  the  problem  of  freely  developing  the  talent 
of  the  individual,  while  maintaining  fully  that 
identification  of  the  individual  with  the  State  which 
was  the  very  essence  of  Greek  social  life.  This 
proposition  I  wish  to  prove  and  explain  in  the 
present  chapter.  By  keeping  steadily  to  it,  we 
shall  obtain,  I  believe,  the  best  idea  of  such  "  good 
life  "  as  it  was  possible  for  the  City- State  to  realise  ; 
and  we  shall  learn  to  identify  that' "good  life"  with 
the  form  and  spirit  of  Democracy,  the  last  phase 
taken  by  this  kind  of  social  union  in  the  course  of 
its  natural  development,  before  decay  set  in.  I  say 
the  form  and  s'pirit  of  Democracy ;  for  though 
Democracy  is  often  treated  as  a  form  of  government 
only,^  we  surely  may  not  be  content  so  to  treat  it, 
if  we  are  really  bent  on  understanding  what  the 
TToXfc?  in  its  perfection  could  do  for  the  education 
of  mankind. 

^  E.g.  by  Sir  H.  Maine  in  Popular  Government,  ch.  i. 


CHAP.  VI        THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  151 

Let  US  start  by  taking  as  a  text  some  memor- 
able words  of  the  statesman  who  above  all  other 
Athenians,  in  the  golden  days  of  Athens,  perceived 
what  the  State  might  do  for  the  individual,  and  the 
individual  for  the  State,  towards  the  realisation  of 
"  the  good  life."  When  Athens  at  last  became 
involved  in  war  with  Sparta,  at  the  funeral  of  the 
first  victims  of  battle  Pericles  was  chosen  to  deliver 
an  oration  over  them,  of  which  Thucydides  the 
historian,  himself  doubtless  among  the  audience, 
has  preserved  for  us  the  spirit  and  the  thoughts  in 
his  own  weighty  and  subtle  phraseology.  One 
passage  in  this  immortal  speech  seems  to  embody 
in  living  words  the  statesman's  idea  of  what  life  in 
democratic  Athens  ought  to  be,  expressed  as  though 
it  actually  were  so ;  as  in  moments  of  deep  emotion 
we  are  apt  to  speak  of  one  whom  we  profoundly 
admire  and  love  with  an  enthusiasm  suggested  and 
justified  by  his  character,  even  if  it  fell  short  in 
truth  of  the  perfection  with  which  our  strong 
feeling  invests  it.  But  Pericles  must  have  known 
well  the  shortcomings  of  the  Athenians,  as  well  as 
their  wonderful  capacities ;  and  if  at  this  moment 
of  supreme  feeling  he  expressed  not  only  the  bare 
truth  about  them,  but  also  his  own  hopes  for  them, 
and  his  ideal  of  a  perfect  civic  life,  we  need  not 
shrink  on  that  account  to  take  these  words  of  his 
as  the  best  possible  text  from  which  to  set  about 
learning  what  Athens  actually  was  in  his  day.  I 
shall  quote  the  passage  in  full.^ 

^    Thucydides,  ii.  37.     I  quote  from  Jowett's  translation  ;   but 


152  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


"Our  form  of  government  does  not  enter  into  rivalry 
with  the  institutions  of  others.  We  do  not  copy  our  neigh- 
bours, but  are  an  example  to  them.  It  is  true  that  we  are 
called  a  ^mocracy,  for  the  administration  is  in  the  hands  of 
the  many  and  not  the  few.  But  while  the  law  secures  equal 
justice  to  all  alike  in  their  private  disputes,  the  claim  of 
excellence  is  also  recognised  ;  and  where  a  citizen  is  in  any 
way  distinguished,  he  is  preferred  to  the  public  service,  not 
as  a  matter  of  privilege,  but  as  a  reward  of  merit.  Neither 
is  poverty  a  bar,  but  a  man  may  benefit  his  country  what- 
ever be  the  obscurity  of  his  condition.  There  is  no  exclu- 
siveness  in  our  public  life,  and  in  our  private  intercourse 
we  are  not  suspicious  of  each  other,  nor  angry  with  our 
neighbour  if  he  does  what  he  likes  ;  we  do  not  put  on  sour 
looks  at  him  which,  though  harmless,  are  not  pleasant. 
While  we  are  thus  unconstrained  in  our  private  intercourse, 
a  spirit  of  reverence  pervades  our  public  acts ;  we  are 
prevented  from  doing  wrong  by  respect  for  authority  and 
for  the  laws,  having  an  especial  regard  for  those  which  are 
ordained  for  the  protection  of  the  injured,  as  well  as  for 
those  unwritten  laws  which  bring  upon  the  transgressor  of 
them  the  reprobation  of  the  general  sentiment." 

Now  what  Pericles  here  wished  to  impress  on 
the  Athenians,  as  the  ideal  at  which  their  social 
life  should  be  aimed,  may  be  expressed  mainly  in 
^wo  propositions.  First,  the  whole  Athenian  people 
were  identified  with,  actually  were,  the  State,  in  a 
higher  and  fuller  sense  than  had  so  far  been  realised 
by  any  Greek  city  ;  all  shared  equally  in  its  govern- 
ment, in  its  education,  and  in  its  pleasures. 
Secondly,  this  equality  of  right  and  advantage,  so 
far  from  reducing  all  to  a  dead  level  of  intellect, 
actually  gave  freer  play  to  individual  talent  than 

it  is  only  from  the  Greek,  and  from  the  laying  to  heart  of  ever} 
phrase  of  it,  that  Pericles'  meaning  can  fully  be  apprehended. 


VI  THE  KEALISATIOX  OF  DEMOCRACY  153 

it  could  be  sure  of  obtaining  in  other  States ;  for  at 
Athens    alone    poverty   was    no   hindrance   to   the) 
development  of  genius.     If  these  two  propositions  ^ 
were  in  any  real  sense  true  of  the  Athenians  of 
that  day,  then  surely  we  may  find  here  the  "  good 
life  "  which  Aristotle  claims  as  the  true  end  of  the 
City-State — ^he  full  and  freej3ulture  of  the  individual      I 
jiS^i^^g^jLtJie  jadyaiitage  of  the  community.  -* 

We  have  now  to  see  how  far  these  two  proposi- 
tions hold  good  of  Athens  in  the  time  of  Pericles. 
Very  different  views,  it  must  be  said  at  once,  were 
taken  by  later  writers  and  orators  of  the  Athenians 
and  their  democracy.  Plato,  for  instance,  makes 
Socrates  say  in  the  Gorgias}  "  I  hear  that  Pericles 
made  the  Athenians  a  lazy,  cowardly,  talkative,  and 
money-loving  people,  by  accustoming  them  to 
receive  wages."  Isocrates  describes  democracy  at 
Athens  as  passing  into  disorder,  freedom  into  law- 
lessness, equality  into  reckless  impudence.^  Aris- 
totle, too,  never  shows  enthusiasm  for  Athenian 
institutions,  nor  does  he  connect  Pericles  with  any 
attempt  to  realise  his  own  ideal  of  to  ev  ^tjv?  But 
Plato,  Isocrates,  and  Aristotle  knew  Athens  only 
when  her  best  days  were  past,  and  when  the  gifted 
and  animated  population  of  the  golden  age  had  been 
thinned  down  sadly  by  war  and  pestilence.  It  is 
not  scientific  to  judge  of  the  working  of  Athenian 
institutions  in  the  fifth  century  B.C.  by  the  opinions 

1  P.  515.  2  ji^^co}).  20. 

^  To  these  unfavourable  verdicts  must  be  added  that  of  the 
treatise  on  the  Athenian  constitution  formerly  attributed  to 
Xenophon. 


154  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


of   men   who   knew    them    only   as   worked   by   a 
degenerate  population  in  the  fourth.      Let  us  keep 

\  for  the  present  to  Pericles  himself  as  a  guide. 
Following  his  lead,  we  may  try  and  form  some  idea 
of  Athenian  democracy  first  as  a  political  whole,  and 
secondly,  in  respect  of  the  education  and  capacity 

Lof  the  individuals  composing  that  whole. 

I.  Let  us  recall,  to  begin  with,  the  position  in 
which  Solon's  legislation  had  left  the  Athenian 
people.  Having  freed  them  from  the  bondage  of 
debt,  and  cleared  the  way  for  their  progress  towards 
social  independence,  he  gave  to  the  whole  people, 
including  the  poorest  class,  a  powerful  hold  on  the 
executive  which  governed  them.  All  had  a  share  in 
electing  the  magistrates,  and  all  had  a  share  in  the 
right  of  judging  of  the  conduct  of  these  magistrates 
at  the  end  of  their  year  of  oftice.  He  added  to  the 
constitution  a  new  Council  of  400,  also  elected  by 
the  whole  body  of  citizens,  but  retained  the  old 
Council  of  the  Areopagus  to  watch  over  the  general 
interests  of  the  State,  both  material  and  moral. 
And  by  a  re-division  of  the  existing  citizens  on  the 
basis  of  property  instead  of  descent,  and  by  restricting 
the  right  of  holding  magistracies  to  the  richer 
citizens,  he  destroyed  the  purely  aristocratic  char- 
acter of  the  executive,  while  securing  that  this 
executive  should  not  pass  into  the  hands  of  persons 
ill-educated  or  poverty-stricken. 
- —    The  general  result  of  Solon's  work  was  therefore 

/  to  identify  every  individual  Athenian  very  closely 

/  with  the  State,  but  to  keep  the  reins  of  government 
I    in  the  hands  of  men  who  were  qualified  to  wield 


,uV^ 


VI  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  155 

them.      Under  the  oligarchical  regime  the  ordinary 
Athenian  had  little  benefit  from  the  government, 
little  interest  in  the  State ;  he  was  a  part  of  the 
State  only  in  a  very  doubtful  sense,  and  politically 
was  not  on  a   much  higher  level  than   the  Attic 
slave.     After  Solon  he  could  feel  that  the  govern-    1 
ment  was  of  advantage  to  him,  that  he  himself  had 
a  distinct  share  in  it,  and  a  very  lively  interest  in 
its  good  management.      He  is  raised  a  whole  stage 
higher  in  the  social  system,  and  removed  far  above 
the  level  of  the  slave.      But  this  identification  of  | 
the  interests  of  individual  and  State  might  be  made/ 
still  more  complete  and  fruitful. 

If  we  could  in  imagination  transport  ourselves"! 
to  the  Athens  of  a  century  and  a  half  later,  and 
mingle  in  the  city  and  the  port  of  Piraeus  with  the 
busy  crowd  of  citizens,  we  should  find  a  very  differ ^J 
ent  state  of  things  from  that  left  by  Solon.     Not  only 
has  the  city  greatly  increased  in  size,  population, 
and  magnificence,  as  well  as  in  fame  and  influence ; 
not  only  has  a  new  port  arisen,  in  which  a  splendid 
navy  is  sheltered,  and  whose  streets  are  thronged 
by  strangers  from  all  parts  of  Hellas  and  the  sur- 
rounding countries  ;  but  by  questioning  and  observ- 
ing we  should  discover  as  a  fact  beyond  all  doubt,"! 
that  every  Athenian  citizen  is  now  a  citizen  in  the 
fullest  sense  of  which  the  word  is  capable.      The 
words  TToXt?  and  ttoX/t?;?  have  here  a  closer  rela- 
tion   than  they  have  ever   yet  reached   in   Greek 
history,  and  express  the  fact  that  the  full  identifi- 
cation of  the  State  and  the  individual  is  here  at  i 
last  achieved.  ^ 


156  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 


r, 


Every  citizen  has  now  not  only  a  right  to  hold 
office/  and  to  serve  on  the  Council,  but  also  a  very 
good  chance  of  exercising  that  right  in  his  turn. 
Every  citizen  can  take  part  in  the  meetings  of  the 
general  Assembly  (iKK\r]ala)J  which  takes  place 
regularly  forty  times  every  year,  and  on  many  other 
occasions  when  special  business  was  to  be  trans- 
acted ;  ^  and  in  these  assemblies  final  decisions  are 
taken  on  every  matter  which  concerned  the  interest 
of  the  State  as  a  whole.  Every  citizen  over  thirty 
years  of  age  can  further  sit  as  a  judge  in  one  of  the 
large  panels  of  500  into  which  those  thus  quali- 
fied by  age  are  now  distributed ;  and  before  one  of 
these  panels  almost  every  case  of  importance  must 
come,  for  the  judicial  functions  of  even  the  highest 
magistrates  are  now  limited  to  the  mere  direction 
of  business  in  the  courts,  or  to  the  settlement  of 
suits  of  a  petty  nature.  Lastly,  the  council  of  the 
Areopagus,  which  Solon  retained  as  a  body  of  expe- 
rienced men  occupying  their  seats  in  it  for  life,  in 
order  to  place  the  working  of  the  whole  State  under 
a  wise  and  efficient  control,  has  wholly  lost  this 
undefined  power  of  supervision ;  the  Athenians  are 
now  quite  emancipated  from  any  such  paternal 
authority,  and  commit  their  interests  to  no  trustees 
save  their  yearly  elected  magistrates, — and  to  these 
only  in  a  very  limited  sense.     The  people,  like  the 


^  Whether  the  Archonship  was  open  to  the  lowest  class  in  450, 
either  legally  or  practically,  is  doubtful.  At  the  end  of  the  follow- 
ing century  it  was  practically  open  to  all.  See  Ath.  Pol.  ch.  vii. 
fin. 

2  Gilbert,  i.  p.  255  and  notes. 


VI  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  157 

young  sovereign  who  puts  aside  his  father's  too 
insistent  counsellors,  has  taken  the  conduct  of  its 
affairs  entirely  into  its  own  hands,  confident  in 
its  own  abilities  and  in  its  own  reasonableness. 
The  State,  not  only  as  the  shelter  and  home 
but  as  the  property  and  occupation  of  the  people, 
truly  is  now  the  whole  body  of  Athenians,  and 
not  a  part  only,  as  under  the  oligarchical  rule. 
The  individual  is  identified  to  the  full  with  the! 
State. 

To  explain  how  these  great  changes  have  come 
about  would  be  beyond  the  scope  of  this  chapter. 
Even  after  the  discovery  of  the  treatise  on  the 
Athenian  constitution,  the  political  history  of 
Athens  from  Solon  to  Pericles  is  still  a  very  diffi- 
cult and  complicated  study,  and  there  is  hardly  a 
point  or  a  date  in  it  which  is  not  still  matter  of 
dispute.  I  am  more  concerned  just  now  to  illus- 
trate a  little  more  fully  the  actual  working  of  this 
wonderful  democracy ;  but  before  attempting  this  I 
must  recall  the  history  of  Athens  in  broadest  out- 
line, in  order  that  we  may  see,  if  not  precisely  by 
what  steps  the  democratic  spirit  went  forward,  at 
least  how  it  was  possible  that  it  should  make  such 
rapid  and  effectual  progress. 

This  progress,  we  may  be  sure,  was  not  merely 
the  result  of  a  series  of  fortunate  circumstances,  for 
in  the  course  of  it  Athens  underwent  such  perils  as 
would  have  crushed  any  ordinary  state  of  her  size. 
Four  times  at  least,  within  a  period  of  some  thirty 
years,  Attica  was  invaded  by  enemies,  and  twice 
her  sacred  Acropolis  was  desecrated  by  their  forcible 


TA^z-^tt^-' 


158  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


occupation ;  ^  yet  the  progress  continued,  steady  and 
sure  as  ever.  We  must  rather  look  for  an  explana- 
tion to  that  quality  of  her  people  which  we  saw 
exemplified  so  admirably  in  Solon,  and  which  the 
student  of  her  literature  and  art  ever  contemplates 
with  delight ;  I  mean  the  sanity,  the  reasonableness, 
of  the  Athenians  and  their  leading  men.  I  have 
pointed  out  how  Solon's  work  was  reasonable,  because 
it  embraced  in  one  series  of  laws,  social  and  eco- 
nomic, as  well  as  political,  reform  ;  in  all  his  legisla- 
tion he  was  animated  by  the  same  reasonable  object 
of  developing  the  resources  of  the  State  in  due 
proportion  and  harmony.  The  same  quality  is  to 
be  noted  even  in  the  tyranny  which  followed.  Little 
as  we  know  of  the  government  of  Pisistratus,  it  is 
quite  enough  to  convince  us  that  under  this  abso- 
lutism Athens  was  not,  like  so  many  other  States, 
swept  into  a  back-current,  or  left  floating  idle  and 
exhausted.  Pisistratus  did  not  abolish  Solon's  laws, 
nor  did  he  play  false  to  the  spirit  which  dictated 
them.  On  this  point  Thucydides  is  emphatic ;  let 
me  quote  his  exact  words.^ 

"The  general   character  of  his  administration   was  not   ■ 
unpopular  or  oppressive  to  the  many  ;  in  fact  no  tyrants 
ever  displayed  greater  merit  or  capacity  than  these.     Though 
the  tax  which  they  exacted  amounted  only  to  five  per  cent., 
they  improved   and   adorned  the   city.   .  .   .   The   city   was 
permitted  to  retain  her  ancient  laws,  the  Pisistratidse  only  \ 
taking  care   that   one   of  themselves  should  always    be    in  | 
office." 

^  By  Cleomenes  of  Sparta  in  509  B.C.  after  expelling  Cleisthenes       ^ 
(Herod,  v.  72)  ;  and  by  the  Persians  in  480  B.C.  /      ^ 

2  Thucyd.  vi.  54,  5  and  6.  •  A  It 


VI  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  159 

It  is  plain  from  this  passage,  and  from  what 
little  else  we  know  about  him,  that  Pisistratus  was 
one  of  those  tyrants  whose  personal  interest  coin- 
cided with  that  of  the  State.  He  helped,  rather 
than  retarded,  the  development  of  the  people  in 
well-being,  in  commerce,  in  art,  and  in  religion.^ 
The  words  in  which  Thucydides  describes  his 
quality,  aperri  and  ^vvetri^, — a  right  spirit  and  an 
intellectual  sanity, — would  prove  this  sufficiently 
even  if  we  had  no  other  evidence  at  all. 

Pisistratus  died  in  527  B.C.  In  the  hands  of 
his  sons  the  tyranny  gradually  degenerated  into  one 
of  the  worst  type ;  and  on  the  expulsion  of  Hippias, 
in  5 1 0  B.C.,  the  natural*  result  followed — faction  and 
anarchy.  The  oligarchs  lifted  up  their  heads  again, 
and  for  a  moment  treachery  and  intrigue  threatened 
to  ruin  the  growing  State.  But  again  Athens  found 
a  reasonable  man  to  help  her.  Cleisthenes,  who 
perhaps  began  with  the  idea  of  making  himself 
tyrant,  ended  by  "  taking  the  people  into  partner- 
sliip,"  and  working  out  more  fully  the  reasonable 
policy  of  Solon  and  Pisistratus.  Of  the  man  him- 
self we  know  little  or  nothing,  but  we  know  at  least 
in  outline  what  was  his  chief  contribution  to  the 
development  of  democracy.  When  the  leaders  of  the 
French  Ke^'olution  wished  to  undermine  the  influence 
of  the  ancient  feudal  nobility,  they  did  away  with 
the  old  division  of  the  country  into  provinces,  in 
which  the  local  magnates  and  their  privileges  were 

^  The  evidence  connecting  Pisistratus  with  the  popular  Dionysus- 
worship  at  Athens  will  be  found  stated  in  Mr.  Dyer's  Gods  in 
Greece,  p.  125,  note  3. 


160  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

paramount,  and  adopted  a  new  division  into  a  much 
larger  number  of  departments,  on  which  the  whole 
political  system  was  to  be  based  without  fear  ol 
local  aristocratic  influence.  Cleisthenes  struck  out 
a  plan  of  much  the  same  kind.  Attica  had  been 
divided  into  four  tribes,  twelve  phratries,  and  three 
hundred  and  sixty  clans  (yevrj),  each  dan  having  as 
its  nncleus  an  aristocratic  family.      Cleisthenes  was 

^too  reasonable  actually  to  abolish  these ;  but  he  saw 
that  if  Athens  was  to  enjoy  repose,  now  that  the  | 
people  were  familiar  with  the  idea  that  they  had  I 
a  direct  interest  in  the  State,  these  old  aristocratic 
groups  must  practically  cease  to  have  political  im- 

( portance.  He  re -divided  the  Athenians  into  ten  I 
new  tribes,  each  comprising,  as  administrative  units, 
ten  demes  or  townships ;  the  demes  in  each  tribe 
not  heing  contiguous,  but  situated  in  different  parts 
of  Attica,  so  as  to  be  wholly  free  from  the  old  local 
traditions  and  influences.  In  these  new  tribes  and 
demes  he  included  every  free  Athenian,  together 
with  many  residents  in  Attica  and  enfranchised 
slaves,  who  had  never  been  inscribed  on  the 
registers  of  the  old  divisions.  On  the  basis  of 
this  new  local  system  the  constitution  was  hence- 
forward to  be  worked ;  for  example,  the  Council 
was  increased  to  500,  so  that  fifty  were  elected 
to  it  yearly  from  each  of  the  ten  new  tribes.  If 
this  new  system  were  adhered  to,  oligarchy  could 
never  rear  its  head  again,  and  tyranny  w^ould  have 
but  a  poor  chance.  And  surely  we  may  see,  in  the  • 
loyal  submission  of  the  oligarchical  party  to  this 
sweeping  change,  one  more  proof  of  the  reasonable- 


vr  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCEACY  161 

ness  of  the  Athenian  people  in  all  grades  of  social  V^  . 
life.  For  the  change  was  perhaps  the  most  far- 
reaching  in  all  Athenian  history.  The  tissue  out  of 
which  the  State  had  been  created, — the  clan  village 
with  its  religious  aristocracy, — was  no  longer  to  be 
essential  toTthe  State's  vitality ;  it  might  survive, 
but  its  place  was  henceforth  to  be  supplied  by  a 
new  organisation,  in  which  there  would  be  no  aris- 
tocratic centres  to  influence  the  people's  will. 

Thus  finally  delivered  from  oligarchic  tutelage 
and  faction,  "  united  and  penetrated  with  a  single 
spirit,"  ^  Athens  was  ready  to  face  her  greatest  trial. 
The  reasonableness^of  her  leaders,  and  the  strength 
which^  unity  haH  given^Iierrenabled  her  to  act  as 
the  real  champion  of  Hellas  against  the  Persian  in- 
vader; and  the  heroism  of  her  successful  defence, 
in  which  every  citizen  directly  or  indirectly  took  a 
part,  at  once  made  the  completion  of  democracy 
certain,  and  spread  throughout  Greece  the  fame  of 
democratic  institutions.  In  the  generation  succeed- 
ing the  Persian  wars,  the  changes  were  brought 
about  which  produced  the  constitution  of  which  I 
just  now  indicated  the  leading  features.  Aristides, 
another  leader  of  the  true  Solonian  type  ;  Ephialtes, 
a  man  "  with  a  reputation  for  incorruptibility  and 
possessing  a  high  public  character  " ;  ^  and  lastly 
Pericles,  whose  character  and  abilities  are  immortalised 
by  the  greatest  of  Greek  historians,  completed  the 
work,  and  brought  Athens  to  such  a  pitch  of  greatness 
that  she  roused  the  hatred  and  jealousy  of  the  City- 


1  Abbott,  Hist,  of  Greece,  i.  484. 

2  Ath.  Pol.  25. 

M 


,v 


,BU 


'#Ja62   pjr   Ji-Jt^'*        THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

States  of'  Greece,  and  was  forced  to  embark  in  a 
struggle  which  ended  in  her  own  downfall.  Of  the 
meaning  of  this  jealousy  and  its  fatal  results,  so  far 
as  it  concerns  the  history  of  the  City-State,  I  shall 
have  a  word  to  say  later  on ;  at  present,  leaving 
aside  the  question  as  to  the  precise  steps  by  which 
complete  democracy  was  realised  under  the  leaders 
just  mentioned,  let  us  turn  for  a  moment  to  consider 
what  democracy  really  meant  at  Athens  in  the  short 
period  of  its  best  days. 

r-^  Just  as  the  City-State  differed  as  a  species  from 
the  modern  State,  so  did  its  democratic  form  differ 
,  from  what  we  now  understand  by  Democracy.  For 
example,  when  we  speak  of  our  British  constitu- 
tion as  having  become  a  democracy,  we  mean  that 
we  are  governed  by  a  ministry  which  has  at  its 
back  the  majority  of  a  democratically  elected  House 
of  Commons.  We  are  not  governed  by  the  people  ; 
this  is  impossible,  even  with  the  aid  of  representa- 
tive institutions,  in  the  large  territories  of  the  modern 
State.  Some  approach  can  be  made  to  it,  in  the 
way  of  local  government,  which  may  enable  the 
people  in  each  district  to  understand  and  in  some 
degree  to  manage  their  own  local  affairs ;  ^  but  great 
questions  of  national  interest  can  only  be  presented 
to  the  people  at  periodical  elections,  and  it  con- 
stantly happens  that  on  such  questions  the  govern- 
ment of  the  day  is  actually  for  a  year  or  two  at 
variance  with   the  feeling  of  the  majority  of  the 

1  This  may  perhaps  be  best  seen  in  the  working  of  the  Swiss 
democracy.  See  Adams  and  Cunningham's  Swiss  Constitution, 
chapters  on  the  Commune  and  Canton . 


i 


VI  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCEACY  163 

people.     When  at  last  an  election  takes  place,  that 
feeling  is  expressed,  and  the  new  government  is,  for 
a  time  at  least,  in  accordance  with  it.      But  this  is  \ 
very  far  from  what  the  Greeks  meant  by  hr^fxoKparLa 
— government  by  the  people.     We  have  borrowed 
their  word,  and  given  it  a  new  meaning,  as  far  less  A 
simple  as   our  form  of  State  is  less  simple   than  J 
theirs. 

Wlien  the  Athenians  called  their  constitution  a"\ 
hrj^oKparia,  they  meant  literally  what  the  word 
itself  expressed, — that  the  people  undertook  itselfj 
the  work  of  government.  I  must  now  try  to  ex- 
plain briefly  how  this  could  be  in  any  sense  true  ;  and 
I  can  best  do  so  by  considering  three  several  points, 
viz.  (1)  the  legislative  and  judicial  power  ;  (2)  the 
magistrates  and  lesser  officials,  together  with  the 
council ;  (3)  the  manner  in  which  these  were 
elected. 

1.  I  have  already  said  that  every  Athenian  citizen 
could  sit  and  vote  in  the  Ecclesia,  and  that  all  over 
thirty  years  of  age  could  sit  and  vote  in  the  law- 
courts.  This  meant,  no  doubt,  that  practically  the 
dwellers  in  Athens  and  the  Peiraeus  alone  habitually 
did  so  ;  for  not  even  in  a  City-State  could  demo- 
cratic  institutions  be  made  absolutely  perfect.  They 
met  in  the  open  air,  listened  to  orators  debating  the 
questions  presented  to  them,  and  by  their  votes 
finally  decided  them.  Their  assembly  thus  consti- 
tuted the  sovereign  hocly  of  the  State,  from  which 
there  was  no  further  reference ;  their  Dikasteria 
were  also  courts  of  final  reference,  from  which  there 
was  likewise  no  appeal  whatever.     And  to  secure 


164  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

that  all  alike,  poor  as  well  as  rich,  should  not  only 
have  the  right,  but  also  be  able  to  exercise  it,  of 
taking  part  in  these  assemblies,  and  thus  bringing 
their  individuality  to  bear  on  the  conduct  of  the 
State,  Pericles  introduced  a  small  payment  for  attend- 
ance, sufficient  to  enable  the  poor  to  forgo  their 
usual  occupations  on  the  days  of  meeting. 

Want  of  space  forbids  me  here  to  enter  into 
detail  on  the  subjects  of  discussion  and  decision 
which  were  brought  before  the  sovereign  assembly  of 
Athenians.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  point  out  that 
they  included  every  matter  of  vital  interest  to  the 
State  as  a  whole  ;  decisions  of  war  and  peace,  ne- 
gotiations with  other  States,  the  management  of  the 
military  and  naval  forces,  general  questions  of  finance 
and  of  religion,  complaints  against  the  public  con- 
duct of  individuals,  and  lastly — though  in  the  best 
days  of  Athens,  as  we  shall  see,  this  was  an  unusual 
subject  of  debate — the  passing  of  new  laws  and  the 
amendment  of  existing  ones.  In  all  such  matters 
the  voice  of  the  Athenian  people  was  supreme  and 
final.i 

2.  So  far  we  have  seen  that  the  sovereignty,  or 
as  Sir  H.  Maine  defines  that  word,  the  supreme 
social  force,  lay  at  Athens  with  the  people  themselves, 
and  not  with  any  set  of  delegates  or  officials  elected 
by  them.  But  what  share  had  they  in  the  actual' 
administration, — in  the  conduct  of  all  the  compli- 
cated   business  which  abounds   in   an   active    and 

^  On  this  subject  read  Schomann,  Ant.  p.  379  ;  and  for  the 
form  of  popular  decrees  see  examples  in  Hicks,  Greek  Historical 
Inscriptions,  pp.  53,  62,  105. 


VI  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  165 

prosperous  State,  and  which  cannot  possibly  be 
transacted  in  a  vast  popular  assembly  ?  In  other 
words,  did  the  individual  Athenian  transact  public 
business  himself,  as  well  as  direct  or  judge  those  to 
whom  it  fell  ?  Was  he  in  any  degree  familiar 
with  the  details  of  the  business  which  he  ulti- 
mately directed  in  his  assembly,  or  was  he,  like 
the  vast  majority  of  the  members  of  our  own  so- 
called  democracy,  wholly  ignorant  of  them,  utterly 
inexperienced  in  the  burdens  and  responsibilities  of 
office  ? 

The  answer  to  these  questions  is,  that  if  the  con- 
stitution  actually jwv.  ^ked  on  the  lines  jixdicated^-by 
the  researches  of  moaorn  scholars,  almost  every 
Athenian  must  at  one  time  or  other  in  his  life  have 
taken  part  in  the  conduct  of  public  business.  This 
will  not  be  fully  apparent  until  we  have  explained 
how  Athenian  officials  were  elected ;  but  for  the 
moment  we  will  take  a  rapid  glance  at  the  two  chief 
classes  of  officials, — those  who  constituted  the 
Council  of  500,  and  those  who  filled  the  long  series 
of  administrative  posts,  from  the  Archons  and  Gene- 
rals at  the  top  of  the  ladder  to  the  lowest  kind  of 
overseers  who  looked  after  the  police,  the  markets, 
or  the  victims  for  the  public  sacrifices. 

The  Council  was  simply  a  large  committee  of 
the  whole  people,  elected  afresh  every  year.  Its 
business  was  of  very  various  kinds,  and  need  not  be 
specified  in  detail  here ;  two  points  will  be  sufficient 
to  provide  us  with  an  answer  to  our  questions,  so 
far  as  this  institution  is  concerned.  First,  it  pre- 
pared all  business  for  the  Ecclesia,  and  it  had  to 


166  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

see  that  the  decisions  of  the  Ecclesia  were  properly 
carried  out;  in  a  word,  the  whole  of  the  ordinary- 
business  of  the  State  passed  through  its  hands.  The 
preparation  of  all  such  business,  as  well  as  the 
execution  of  Acts  of  Parliament,  is  in  our  own 
constitution  the  work  of  permanent  officials,  skilled 
men  whose  lives  are  given  up  to  it  as  a  profession — 
statesmen,  permanent  secretaries,  judges,  magistrates, 
and  inspectors.  At  Athens  all  this  work  was  done 
by  the  ordinary  Athenian  elected  to  the  Council, 
who  brought  only  his  native  intelligence  and  reason- 
ableness to  bear  upon  it.  Secondly,  it  was  hardly 
possible  for  any  councillor  to  shirk  this  business; 
for  the  Council  did  not  usually  sit  as  a  whole,  but 
in  successive  sections  of  fifty  relieving  each  other 
during  ten  divisions  of  the  year.  A  member's 
absence  might  easily  be  unnoticed  in  a  large 
assembly,  but  he  would  be  missed  if  he  failed  often 
to  be  present  in  a  committee  of  fifty  only.^ 

To  the  500  members  of  Council  who  thus 
became  familiar,  for  a  time  at  least,  with  the  most 
important  practical  side  of  public  business,  we  must 
now  add  the  whole  number  of  officials  who  assisted 
the  Council  in  administrative  work  in  its  minutest 
details.  It  would  be  tedious  to  enumerate  these ; 
but  the  point  to  notice  is  that  the  Athenians  en- 
trusted these  details,  not  to  single  individuals,  but 
to  hoards.  There  were  nine  Archons,  ten  Strategi  or 
Generals,  and  other  boards  for  finance,  education, 

^  Much  interesting  information  on  these  points,  and  others  that 
follow,  will  be  found  brought  together  in  Mr.  J.  W.  Headlam's 
Election  by  Lot  at  Athens  (Cambridge  Historical  Essays,  No.  iv. ). 


-^n 


THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  167 

religion,  dockyards,  and  every  other  department, 
great  and  small,  of  public  administration.  One 
important  board,  the  Logista  or  chief  accountants, 
were  even  thirty  in  number.  The  whole  number 
of  individuals'  serving  the  State  in  this  way  in  any 
one  year  cannot  be  computed  for  the  age  I  am 
speaking  of;  but  for  the  age  of  Aristides  the  author 
of  the  "  Athenian  Constitution  "  reckoned  them  at 
1400.^  If  we  take  the  same  number  for  the  age 
of  Pericles,  and  add  to  it  the  500  councillors,  we 
get  a  total  of  1900,  out  of  an  adult  male  popula- 
tion of  about  30,000.2 

3.  All  these  officials,  with  a  very  few  excep- 
tions, of  which  the  Strategi  are  the  most  important, 
were  elected  by  lot,  and  to  the  best  of  our  know- 
ledge were  rarely  if  ever  re-elected.^  The  exact 
details  of  the  method  of  election  by  lot  are  still 
unknown  to  us ;  but  there  can  be  no  reasonable 
doubt  that  this  method,  which  to  us  seems  so 
strange  on  account  of  our  very  different  conception 
of  democracy,  was  meant  to  secure  that  every 
Athenian  should  at  some  time  in  his  life  have  the 
right   or  bear  the   burden    (in  whichever  way   he 

^  Ath.  Pol.  24.  Half  of  these  were  ^i/drjfioi,  and  half  virepdpcoi  ; 
but  it  is  not  clear  who  are  meant  by  the  latter, — the  magistrates 
"beyond  the  borders."  If  we  were  to  exclude  these,  the  1900 
would  be  reduced  to  1200. 

2  This  number  represents  the  general  impression  of  the  Athenians 
themselves  in  the  fifth  century  :  Beloch,  Bcvolkerung,  p.  59.  The 
same  author,  at  p.  99,  concludes  that  it  was  35,000  at  the  opening 
of  the  Peloponnesian  war. 

^  See  Headlam,  op.  cit.  p.  90,  note  1.  But  the  author  of  the 
Ath.  Pol.  states  that  in  his  own  day  membership  of  the  Council 
could  be  held  twice,  and  military  offices  any  number  of  times. 


168  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


might  consider  it)  of  assisting  in  the  performance 
of  some  part  of  public  business.  Nineteen  hundred 
places  of  office,  if  the  lot  worked  as  we  believe  it 
was  meant  to  do,  would  circulate  among  the  whole 
body  of  citizens  about  once  in  sixteen  years.^ 

Now  if  we  take  this  in  connection  with  the 
universal  right  of  citizens  to  take  part  in  the 
Ecclesia,  and  of  those  over  thirty  years  of  age  to  sit 
as  jurors  in  the  courts,  it  becomes  at  once  plain 
that  the  Athenian  people  did  actually  conduct  its 
own  government,  and  that  the  State  was  a  true 
SrjfioKpaTLa.  Here  is  no  privileged  class,  no  class 
of  skilled  politicians,  no  bureaucracy ;  no  body  of 
men,  like  the  Eoman  Senate,  who  alone  understood 
the  secrets  of  State,  and  were  looked  up  to  and 
trusted  as  the  gathered  wisdom  of  the  whole  com- 
munity. At  Athens  there  was  no  disposition,  and 
in  fact  no  need,  to  trust  the  experience  of  any  one ; 
each  man  entered  intelligently  into  the  details  of 
his  own  temporary  duties,  and  discharged  them,  as 
far  as  we  can  tell,  with  industry  and  integrity. 
Like  the  players  in  a  well-trained  orchestra,  all 
contrived  to  learn  their  parts  and  to  be  satisfied 
with  the  share  allotted  to  them. 

Nor  was  there  any  serious  chance  that  this 
system  of  government  by  the  people  should  lead  to 
want  of  respect  for  law  and  tradition.  The  Athenian 
of  the  best  days  of  Athens  never  dreamed  of  think- 
ing loosely  about  the  law.      Much  of  his  time,  as 

^  Read  Aristotle's  account  of  the  general  characteristics  of 
democracy,  Pol.  1317  B  ;  noting  especially  those  passages  which 
are  evidently  a  reflection  from  the  practice  at  Athens. 


VI  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  169 

we  have  seen,  was  spent  in  carrjang  it  out  himself, 
or  seeing  that  others  did  so.  It  was  inevitable 
that  this  should  be  so,  where  the  interests  of  State 
and  individual  were  so  wholesomely  identified  as 
they  were  at  Athens,  Assuredly  the  democratic 
leaders  would  never  have  done  away  with  the 
supervising  authority  of  the  Areopiagus,  had  they 
not  been  filled  with  the  conviction  that  the  laws 
(that   is,  the   constitution)  were  now   in  complete 

) harmony  with  the  feelings  of  the  people,  and  that 
the  people  was  itself  capable  of  acting  as  their 
.guardians.  In  fact,  the  true  justification  for  this 
bold  transference  of  trusteeship  from  an  irresponsible 
body  to  the  people  themselves  is  to  be  found  in  the 
speech  of  Pericles  quoted  at  the  beginning  of  this 
chapter.^  "While  we  are  thus  unconstrained  in 
our  private  intercourse,  a  spirit  of  reverence  per- 
vades our  public  acts ;  we  are  prevented  from  doing 
wrong  by  respect  for  authority  and  for  the  laws  " 
{to,  Bij/jLoaLa  8ta  Seo?  fiaXiara  ov  irapavofiovjJbev, 
TMV  re  ael  iv  ap'^fj  ovrcov  oLKpodaei  koI  tcop  v6/jlcov, 

K.T.X.). 

And  these  memorable  words  were  indeed  no 
empty  boast.  All  through  his  civic  life  it  was  the 
work  of  the  Athenian  to  watch  over  the  laws  and 
their  administration.  When  as  a  youth  just  enter- 
ing manhood  he  was  enrolled  with  solemn  religious 
ceremony  in  the  ranks  of  the  Ephebi,^  he  swore  not 

^  Thuc.  ii.,  last  words  of  ch.  37. 

^  I.e.  the  youths  just  ready  to  enter  on  their  first  military  ser- 
vice. For  the  oath  see  Lycurgus  contra  Leocr.  77.  Telfy,  Corpus 
Juris  Attici,  p.  6. 


^ 


170  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


only  to  fight  bravely  for  his  city,  but  "  to  obey  those 
who  bear  rule,  and  the  laws  which  are  in  force,  and 
all  that  the  sovereign  people  shall  decree."  When 
he  came  to  take  his  turn  as  an  official,  he  had  to 
undergo  a  preliminary  examination  as  to  his  quali- 
fication,^ and  when  his  term  of  office  ended  he  had 
to  present  his  accounts  to  the  Logistse,  and  other- 
wise to  show  that  his  conduct  had  been  in  accord- 
ance with  the  law.  It  probably  fell  to  his  lot,  at 
least  once  in  his  life,  also  to  help  in  conducting 
such  scrutinies.  And  as  a  councillor  his  work  was 
done  ^?i  public,  and  not  in  any  secret  session ;  for 
the  Council  worked  under  the  eye  of  the  people, 
and  from  its  very  nature  could  never  become  a 
body  apt  to  warp  the  constitution  from  its  true 
intention,  as  the  Areopagus  might  have  done,  and 
the  Senate  of  Rome  actually  did.  And  lastly,  the 
Athenian,  if  he  should  ever  desire  to  propose  a 
change  in  the  existing  law,  had  to  do  so  at  a  risk 
serious  enough  to  deter  him  from  all  hasty  trifling 
with  legislation.  He  made  himself  liable  to  an 
indictment  "for  informality,  illegality,  or  uncon- 
stitutionality "  (Graphs  Paranomon) ;  and  if,  when 
threatened  with  this,  he  still  persisted,  he  incurred, 
after  conviction  a  very  severe  penalty.  The  law, 
which  in  the  theory  of  the  City-State  was  one  and 
unchangeable,  was  at  Athens  in  her  best  days  as 
nearly  so  as  was  practically  possible.  It  is  of  the 
essence  of  true  democracy  to  be  intensely  conserva- 

1  For  the  true  natiire  of  this  examination  {boKLixaala)  see  Head- 
lam,  op.  cit.  96  foil.  ;  Schomann,  Ant.  403.  For  the  eiidwuL,  ih. 
407  ;  G.  Gilbert,  AUerthumer,  i.  214. 


/ 


VI  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  171 

tive ;  conservatiye^not  necessarily  of  petty  customs 
which  do  not  affect  the  vitality  of  the  State,  but  of 
all  great  principles,  written  or  unwritten,  on  which 
the  constitution  is  based.  Nowhere,  since  the  days 
of  Athens,  has  this  conservative  tendency  asserted 
itself  more  strongly  than  in  the  great  democratic 
State  of  the  modern  world.^ 

I  hope  I  have  now  said  enough  to  indicate  the 
line  of  study  to  be  taken  by  any  one  who  really 
wishes  to  understand  the  nature  of  this  most  per- 
fectly developed  form  of  the  ancient  City-State. 
He  should  set  himself  to  discover  in  detail,  first, 
how  it  was  possible  for  the  Athenians  to  govern 
themselves,  or  in  other  words,  what  they  meant  by 
calling  their  constitution  a  BrjfjLOKparLa ;  secondly, 
how  such  a  government  could  be  carried  on,  and 
must  necessarily  be  carried  on,  in  strict  accordance 
with  the  law.  Following  closely  this  plan  of 
inquiry,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  he  will  come  to 
appreciate  the  truth  of  the  proposition,  that  in  the  k 
golden  age  of  Athens  the  interests  of  the  State  and  | 
the  individual  were  more  perfectly  identified  than  ft 
in  any  other  State  of  antiquity ;  that  we  here  reach 
the  highest  development  of  which  the  TroXt?  was 
capable.     That   there   were   drawbacks   even    here, 

^  See  Bryce's  American  ConstUutio7i,  vol.  i.  chaps.  31-34  ;  or 
Maine,  Popular  Government,  Essay  4.  For  the  securities  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  Athenian  constitution,  see  especially  Grote, 
vol.  iv.  116  foil.  ;  but  the  student  cannot  do  better,  if  he  would 
see  for  himself  how  hard  it  was  to  effect  a  revolution  when  once 
the  democracy  was  complete,  than  examine  carefully  the  difficulties 
with  which  the  oligarchical  imrty  had  to  contend  in  B.C.  411,  in 
Thucyd.  viii.  47  foil. 


172  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


and  weak  points  in  the  system,  is  indeed  true 
enough,  and  of  these  I  shall  have  a  word  to  say  at 
the  end  of  this  chapter ;  but  I  must  now  turn  for 
a  moment  to  the  other  claim  which  Pericles  made 
for  Athens,  that  her  political  system,  so  far  from 
crushing  the  individual,  gave  him  and  his  abilities 
freer  play  than  he  could  look  for  in  any  other 
Greek  State. 

II.  A  people  actually  employed  day  by  day  in 
the  details  of  its  own  government  must  necessarily 
be  undergoing  a  process  of  education.  If  every 
individual  Athenian  was  expected,  some  time  or 
other  in  his  life,  to  have  to  do  such  work  as  audit- 
ing accounts,  superintending  '  public  workmen,  or 
arranging  ^contracts  for  the  supply  of  sacrificial 
victims  (I  select  these  simply  as  specimens  of  the 
minor  sort  of  duties  which  might  fall  to  him),  it  is 
obvious  that  a  degree  of  intellectual  alacrity  would 
also  be  expected  from  him  which  no  one  would  look 
for  in  the  humbler  classes  of  an  oligarchically- 
governed  State.  In  such  a  State,  as,  for  example, 
at  Eome  in  the  best  age  of  senatorial  rule,  the 
intelligence  of  the  governing  class  might  be  of  a 
high  average,  but  there  would  be  no  call,  no  stimu- 
lus, for  the  mental  education  of  the  people.  Sparta 
is  an  even  stronger  example  of  the  same  tendency ; 
for  there  not  only  was  the  mass  of  the  population 
kept  in  a  state  of  rude  and  rustic  ignorance,  but 
the  ruling  class  itself  was  educated  on  a  system  in 
which  intellectual  ardour  was  rigidly  discouraged, 
vBut  at  Athens  the  individual  had  every  inducement 
to  train  his  own  intelligence  for  the  benefit  of  the 


VI  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCEACY  175 

State ;  and  when  he  came  to  serve  his  State,  the 
very  fact  that  he  was  associated  with  others  on 
official  boards,  on  juries,  and  in  the  Ecclesia,  must 
have  still  further  sharpened  his  wits,  while  at  the 
same  time  it  taught  him  how  to  subordinate  his  . 
own  judgment  to  that  of  his  fellows,  and  to  reserve^/ 
his  own  opinion  till  it  was  clearly  called  for.  Even 
if  we  stopped  here  in  considering  the  reasonable 
freedom  of  the  individual  at  Athens,  we  should  find 
Pericles'  proud  boast  in  great  measure  justified,  for 
however  low  a  man's  birth  or  circumstances,  he 
would  still  be  able  to  bring  his  individual  intelli- 
gence to  bear  upon  public  affairs,  "  e^j^aji^  n  ayaOov 
BpaaaL  rrjv  ttoXcvJ' 

But  there  was  another  aspect  of  Athenian  life 
which  goes  to  confirm  our  impression  that  Pericles' 
ideal  was  in  some  degree  realised.  At  this  I  can 
only  glance  very  hurriedly.  We  may  perhaps  best 
appreciate  it  by  considering  how  the  public  wealth 
was  spent  at  Athens.  At  Sparta,  owing  to  the 
peculiar  constitution  and  discipline  of  the  State, 
there  was  no  surplus  public  wealth  at  all, — none, 
that  is,  except  the  land  and  its  products.  At  Eome 
the  resources  of  the  State  had  a  constant  tendency 
to  pass  into  the  hands  of  individuals  of  the  ruling 
class,  and  were  as  constantly  spent  by  them  on  their 
own  private  and  material  advancement.  At  Athens 
such  a  tendency  was  practically  impossible.  There 
were  moderately  rich  men  at  Athens,  such  as  Mkias, 
who  had  large  property  in  Attica,  or  Thucydides 
the  historian,  who  owned  mines  on  the  coast  of 
Thrace  ;  but  they  had  to  contribute  heavily  to  public 


172.  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP 


objects/  and  there  was  no  obvious  opening  for  the 
accumulation  of  a  vast  capital  in  the  hands  of  an 
individual.  The  spirit  of  moderation,  the  inherit- 
ance of  Solon's  reasonableness,  so  far  as  we  can  see, 
survived  in  Athens  for  at  least  two  centuries.    -       ^- 

The  truth  is  that  the  surplus  public  wealth — I 
leave  aside  for  the  moment  the  sources  from  which  it 
was  drawn  —  was  spent  on  the  intellectual  and 
se'Sthetic  education  of  the  whole  Athenian  people. 
It  was  not  spent  onlj  on  the  powerful  navy  which 
secured  to  Athens  her  commanding  influence  in 
Greece,  or  even  on  the  splendid  religious  festivals 
which  called  on  every  Athenian  at  stated  times  to 
come  out  and  feast  and  enjoy  himself,  or  on  the 
gymno^ia  which  were  to  develop  the  bodily  beauty  / 
and  strength  of  boy  and  man  alike.  It  was  spent 
on  the  erection  of  those  magnificent  buildings  on^ 
the  Acropolis,  of  which  the  ruins  still  stand ;  on 
those  inimitable  sculptures  which  still  serve  to 
educate  the  imperfect  artistic  feeling  of  our  modern 
world ;  on  the  exhibition,  open  to  every  citizen, 
however  poor,  of  the  tragic  and  comic  drama^in 
some  of  which  the  most  perfect  of  languages  lives 
still  in  its  most  perfect  form.  To  put  it  briefly,  it 
was  spent  in  raising  the  whole  level  of  the  elcodora 
vorj/uLara  of  Athens, — of  the  ways  of  thinking  and 
feeling  in  which  every  citizen   grew  up.      It  may 

^  Schomann,  Ant.  454  foil.  ;  Boeckh,  Public  Economy  of  Athens 
(new  German  edition),  vol.  i.  533  foil.,  628  foil.  I  am  com- 
pelled to  omit  here  further  reference  to  liturgies,  trierarchies,  and 
the  general  incidence  of  taxation  on  the  rich.  But  the  matter  is  of 
the  greatest  importance  in  forming  an  estimate  of  the  influence  of 
democracy  on  the  distribution  of  property  at  Athens. 


VI 


THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  175 


be  that  the  ordinary  Athenian  did  not  see  the 
policy  in  this  light ;  that  he  thought  of  it  as 
tending  rather  to  increase  his  conifort  than  his 
culture.  But  between  comfort  and  culture  Pericles 
himself  can  have  drawn  no  real  distinction;  in  his 
view,  if  Thucydides  reports  him  rightly,  the  well- 
being  of  the  citizen  would  naturally  enable  him  to 
develop  his  individual  faculties  for  the  good  and  the 
glory  of  the  State. 

And  we  have  sufficient  evidence  that  he  sucH 
ceeded  in  great  measure.  In  no  other  age  or  State ' 
has  so  small  a  population  produced  so  many  men  of 
genius,  whose  rare  taste  and  ability  were  not  wasted 
or  misdirected,  but  stimulated  and  called  into  healthy 
action  by  the  very  circumstances  of  the  everydayj 
life  they  lived.  I  do  need  but  mention  such 
names  as  ^schylus,  Sophocles,  Euripides,  Aristo- 
phanes, Thucydides,  Lysias,  Pheidias,  Socrates,  and 
Pericles  himself,  and  others  whose  gifts  enabled 
them  "  to  d^_^some  good  to  their  city,"  to  show 
that  individual  genius  found  free  play  at  Athens, 
and  was  spent  on  gaining  for  her  not  only  a 
transient  glory,  but  an  immortal  one.  All  these 
poets,  artists,  and  statesmen,  and  many  others  of 
more  ordinary  fame,  found  Athens  in  need  of  them. 
What  their  individual  talents  could  supply  was 
exactly  that  which  was  called  for  by  the  daily  life 
as  well  as  by  the  loftier  aspirations  of  the  people. 
To  use  a  modern  phrase,  they  were  in  harmony 
with  their  environment ;  there  was  no  friction  in 
this  golden  age  between  the  man  of  genius  and  the 
world  he  lived   in.     Truly  it  cannot  be  said  that 


176  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


the  Athenians  were  jealous  of  those  whose  talents 
raised  them  above  the  crowd.  In  some  famous 
instances,  indeed,  they  laid  a  heavy  hand  upon 
their  great  men ;  they  fined  Pericles,  they  punished 
Pheidias,  they  drove  out  Anaxagoras,  they  put 
Socrates  to  death.  But  they  were  never  angry  with 
their  men  of  genius  because  they  were  men  of 
genius ;  they  merely  declined  to  place  absolute  con- 
fidence in  them  as  men  who  could  do  no  wrong. 
And,  after  all,  it  was  a  plague-stricken  and  hard- 
pressed  Athens  that  dealt  unjustly  with  Pericles, 
and  an  Athens  conquered  and  ruined  that  gave 
Socrates  the  hemlock.  For  years  they  had  let 
Pericles,  not  indeed  rule  them,  but  lead  them,  and 
it  was  no  more  than  the  consciousness  of  a  weak 
point  in  the  Greek  character  that  persuaded  them 
that  he  or  Pheidias  could  be  guilty  of  peculation. 
For  years  they  let  Socrates  go  about  the  city  teach- 
ing strange  doctrines, — doctrines  that  were  incon- 
sistent even  with  the  high  level  of  the  elcoOora 
vorjfjuaTa  of  the  average  Athenian  mind.  In  spite 
of  these  mistakes,  one  of  which  at  least  has  left  a 
stain  for  ever  on  their  glorious  record,  the  proposi- 
tion holds  good  that  here  "  the  good  life "  was 
realised  more  fully  than  in  any  other  City-State, 
and  the  interests  of  the  State  and  the  individual 
more  completely  identified  in  the  endeavour  to 
attain  it. 

I  said  some  way  back  that  I  should  have  a  word 
to  say  about  the  weak  points  in  this  wonderful 
political  creation  of    the   Athenians.       Drawbacks 


VI  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY 

there  always  have  been,  and  always  will  be,  to 
every  social  organisation  which  human  nature  can 
devise  and  develop ;  and  at  Athens  these  were  so 
serious  and  so  far-reaching  in  their  consequences 
that  the  remainder  of  this  chapter  must  be  occupied 
in  a  brief  consideration  of  them.  -— 4-- 

In   two  ways,  while   thus   realising  "  the  good    tr 
life  "  to  such  extent  as  was  practically  possible  in  a 
City- State,   Athens   impinged   upon  what  we  may 
be  disposed  to  call  the  rights  of  other  individuals 
and  States.    She  was,  in  the  first  place,  a  slave-ownmg 
State,  a  character  which  she  had  in  common  with 
all  the  City-States  of  the  ancient  world.      Secondly, 
in  this  golden  age  of  hers  she  was  an  imperial  State 
whose  so-called   "allies,"   including  nearly  all  the 
most   important   cities  in   and  around  the  ^gean 
Sea,  were  obliged  to  follow  her  lead,  to  contribute 
to  her  treasury,  and  generally  to  obey  her  orders,  or 
risk  the  chance  of  severe   punishment.     Had  she  \ 
been  neither  a  slave  State  nor  an  imperial  State,  it   1 
is  hardly  possible  to  suppose  that  she  could  have    \ 
attained   the   high   political   and   intellectual   level    j 
which  I  have  been  describing ;  and  this  reflection, 
a  somewhat  melancholy  one,  needs  a  word  of  expla- 
nation. 

I  have  been  all  along  treating  Athens  as  a 
democracy,  and  such,  in  the  view  of  every  Greek, 
she  actually  was.  But  we  must  not  entirely  forget 
that,  judged  by  the  standard  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  she  was  not  really  a  democracy,  but  a  j 
^lave-holding  aristocracy.  It  is  true  that  she  did  j 
not  thus  violate  any  of  the  sentiments  or  traditions 

N 


THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

of  the  Hellenic  world ;  other  States  had  the  same 
advantage,  and  most  of  them  used  it  in  a  much 
narrower  spirit  than  Athens.  The  number  qp- 
slaves  in  Attica  is  now  estimated  at  100,000  at 
the  beginning  of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  as  against 
a  free  population  of  about  135,000.^"  And  this 
means  that  all  their  menial  work,  and  no  doubt  a 
great  part  of  the  work  which  is  now  done  by  what 
we  call  the  industrial  classes,  was  done  for  the  • 
Athenians  by  persons  who  were  in  no  sense  mem- 
bers of  the  State,  who  had  neither  will  nor  status 
of  their  own,  and  whose  one  duty  in  life  was  to 
obey  the  orders  oi  their  masters.  The  citizen  at 
Athens  had  leisure  to  attend  to  his  public  duties, 
to  educate  himself  for  them,  to  enjoy  himself  at 
festivals  and  at  the  theatre,  chiefly  because  he  had 
at  home  and  in  his  workshop  a  sufficient  number  of 
slaves  to  carry  on  his  affairs  in  his  absence.  It 
need  hardly  be  said  that  from  all  such  education, 
public  business,  and  enjoyment,  the  sla\'^  was  most 
carefully  excluded. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  enter  into  a  discussion 
of  slavery,  either  at  Athens  or  in  the  ancient  world 
generally.^  I  shall  be  content  with  hazarding  the 
remark  that,  all  things  considered,  it  is  hard  to 
grudge  Athens  her  100,000  slaves,  if  they  really 
were,  as  I  think  we  must  believe,  essential  to  the 
realisation  of  that  "  good  life  "  of  the  free  minority 

1  Beloch,  Bevolkerung,  p.  99.      Former  calculations  placed  the 
slave  population  at  a  much  higher  figure. 

2  Read  especially  Aristotle,  Pol.  i.  3-7,  1253  B,  and  Mr.  New- 
man's  valuable  remarks  (vol.  i.  139  foil.). 


VI  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  179 

which  has  left  such  an  invaluable  legacy  to  modern 
civilisation.  And  indeed  the  generous  and  reason- 
able spirit  of  Athenian  democracy  was  itself  not 
without  influence  on  the  condition  and  prospects  of 
the  slave  population.  In  no  ancient  State  were  the 
slaves  so  materially  comfortable ;  in  none,  perhaps, 
were  they  so  exclusively  drawn,  not  from  Greek, 
but  from  foreign  and  semi-civilised  peoples.  Though 
their  disabilities  would  form  a  long  list,  their  dis- 
comforts were  certainly  few,  and  their  prospects  of 
liberation  by  no  means  small.  If  liberated,  they 
would  be  in  the  same  position  as  the  resident 
stranger,  and  might  eventually  arrive  at  citizenship  ; 
and  when,  in  great  stress  of  war,  they  had  served 
the  State  honourably  as  a  citizen  might  do,  they 
were  more  than  once  received  into  the  citizen  body 
by  public  vote  of  the  Ecclesia.^ 

In  Aristotle's  view,  the  raison  d'etre  of  slavery  was 
to  make  a  noble  life  possible  for  the  master ;  ^  and 
where  the  master  actually  lived  such  a  life,  and  at 
the  same  time  did  his  duty  by  his  slaves,  the  insti- 
tution might  be  justified.  Tried  by  this  test,  Athens 
is  not  to  be  wholly  condemned  as  a  slave-holding 
State ;  she  may,  at  least,  claim  far  more  indulgence 
than  Sparta  or  Eome. 

Not  so  justifiable,  at  least  from  a  Greek  point  of  view, 
was  the  other  great  advantage,  without  which  Athens 
could  hardly  have  merited  the  panegyric  of  Pericles. 
I  just  now  put  aside  for  the  moment  the  considera- 

^  On   slavery  at   Athens   see  Wallon,  Histoire  de   VEsclavage, 
vol.  i.  ch.  9. 

2  Newman,  Politics,  i.  144. 


180  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

tion  of  the  sources  from  which  that  surplus  wealth 
was  drawn,  which  was  spent  on  the  intellectual  and 
aesthetic  education  of  the  Athenian  people  :  let  us 
return  to  it  now.  That  wealth,  supplying  the  means 
of  paying  the  citizens  for  attendance  in  the  law-courts, 
and  later  in  the  Ecclesia,  of  providing  them  with 
constant  recreation  in  the  theatre  and  at  the  festivals, 
and  of  adorning  the  city  with  splendid  temples 
and  other  public  buildings,  was  drawn,  in  part,  in- 
deed, from  the  ordinary  resources  of  the  State,  but 
chiefly  from  contributions  coming  from  the  cities 
subject  to  Athens  ;  contributions  not  voluntary  in 
amount,  but  carefully  assessed  by  Athens  herself, 
and  as  rigidly  exacted  by  her.^ 

It  was  Pericles  himself  who  introduced  this 
policy — a  policy  which  met  with  strong  opposition 
even  in  the  Athenian  assembly,  and  was  one  of  the 
chief  factors  in  rousing  against  Athens  the  bitter 
animosity  of  the  majority  of  Greek  States.  It 
is  of  the  greatest  importance  for  us,  for  it  marks  an 
epoch  in  the  history  of  the  City-State.  It  was  an 
essential  characteristic  of  that  form  of  State,  as  I 
have  already  pointed  out,^  that  it  should  be  inde- 
pendent, and  as  far  as  possible  self-sufficing.  All 
that  I  have  been  saying  in  this  chapter  about  the 
realisation  of  "  the  good  life  "  at  Athens  is  so  far 
proof  of  this,  that  if  Athens  had  been  the  subject  of 
another  State  she  could  not  have  lived  her  keen 
political  life,  or  have  called  into  play  the  gifts  of 

^  See  the  quota-lists  in  Hicks's  Greek  Historical  Inscriptions, 
Nos.  24,  30,  35,  47,  48. 
2  See  p.  62. 


VI  THE  EEALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  181 

SO  many  men  of  genius.  The  whole  tone  of  her 
life  would  have  been  duller,  without  the  same  in- 
tensity and  the  same  resonance.  But  now  we  have 
to  face  the  fact  (to  which  I  shall  have  to  return  in 
another  chapter)  that  the  small  City-State, — even 
such  an  one  as  Athens,  with  her  peculiar  advantages 
of  situation  and  climate,  and  with  all  the  great 
natural  gifts  of  the  race, — could  not  reach  the  highest 
level  of  human  life  attainable  in  that  day,  without 
sacrificing  the  freedom  and  interests  of  other  States 
whose  capacity  for  good  may  have  been  as  great  as 
her  own.  Athens  deprived  the  subjects  of  her  em- 
pire of  independence, — of  the  true  political  life  of 
the  Greek  State, — and  used  their  resources  for  her 
own  glory  and  adornment.  And  in  doing  so,  she 
showed  at  the  very  same  time  that  she  herself  was 
no  longer  in  the  true  sense  self-sufficing  ;  she  could 
not  supply  even  her  daily^wants  from  within  her  own 
territory,^  much  less  could  she  live  the  noble  life  of 
which  Pericles  spoke  without  encroaching  on  the 
rights  of  others. 

Pericles  sought  to  justify  his  own  policy,  and  the 
new  and  startling  position  into  which  Athens  had 
drifted,  by  an  argument  such  as  Cicero  used  in  de- 
fence of  the  Eoman  Empire,  though  nobler  indeed 
and  more  generous.  Athens  was  to  be  teachei' 
of  Greece  ;  to  inspire  the  Greek  States  with  her 
own  lofty  spirit,  and  to  be  a  central  light  diffusing 
warmth  and  vitality  throughout  the  Hellenic  world. 
To  him,  first  perhaps  of  all  Greeks,  the  system  of  the 
TToXt?  must  have  seemed  small  and  petty,  unequal 
^  See,  e.g.,  Scliomann,  Ant.  p.  526. 


182  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

to  the  attainment  of  that  real  unity,  strength,  and 
security,  which  alone  could  guarantee  the  Greeks 
against  attack  from  without  and  slow  decay  within. 
And  as  we  contemplate  his  grand  conception  now, 
in  the  light  of  later  Greek  history,  we  may  reason- 
ably think  him  right.  But  great  ideas  are  of  little 
practical  use,  unless  they  are  in  harmony  with  the 
conditions  of  life  and  the  feelings  of  the  age ;  and 
Pericles,  and  with  him  Athens,  had  clearly  over- 
stepped the  limits  of  the  elwdora  vorjiiara  of  the 
Greeks.  As  the  tyrant,  however  excellent  his  in- 
tention, could  not  but  find  himself  sooner  or  later 
outside  of  the  circle  of  ideas  in  which  he  had 
been  trained,  so  it  was  with  Athens.  The  con- 
sciousness of  this  is  only  too  apparent  in  Pericles' 
own  words  ;  for  he  does  not  hesitate  to  tell  tbc 
Athenians  that  their  empire  is  a  tyranny,  and  their 
state  a  tyrant.  "  You  have  come  by  this  tyranny," 
he  tells  them,  "  and  you  cannot  go  back  from  it ; 
you  have  outrun  the  tardy  motion  of  the  Greek 
world  of  political  ideas  ;  you  must  keep  your  power, 
but  use  it  for  the  noblest  ends."  ^ 

No  wonder,  then,  that  Athens  was  at  last  attacked, 
and  that  the  ruling  ideas  of  independence  and  self- 
sufficingness  rebelled  against  her  claims  of  light  and 
leading.  The  City-State,  in  reaching  its  highest 
point  of  development,  had  broken  through  the  limits 
of  its  own  proper  nature,  and  was  tending  to  become 
a  different  kind  of  political  unit ;  the  ir6\i<i  threat- 
ened to  grow  into  an  empire,  one  State  menaced  the 
healthy  freedom  of  the  rest.  The  Peloponnesian  war 
1  Thiic.  ii.  63. 


VI  THE  REALISATION  OF  DEMOCRACY  183 

put  an  end  to  the  claims  of  Athens  and  to  the  ideas 
of  Pericles ;  the  tyrant  city  fell.  That  fatal  war 
was  in  one  sense  a  struggle  between  new  and  old 
ideas,  between  the  received  notion  of  Greek  political 
life  and  a  new  doctrine  wholly  at  variance  with  it. 
The  new  heresy  was  put  down  by  force,  but  the  old 
doctrine  had  received  a  shock  from  which  it  never 
recovered ;  the  genuine  old  conception  of  the  ttoXc^, 
strong  as  was  its  hold  upon  the  Greek  people,  lives 
more  vividly  in  the  ideals  of  Plato  and  Aristotle  than 
in  the  history  of  any  City-State  after  the  great 
struggle  was  over.  Of  all  the  great  wars  of  anti- 
quity, the  Peloponnesian  war  was  the  saddest  and 
most  useless ;  for  while  it  humbled  the  tyrant  city, 
it  was  the  means  of  irretrievably  weakening  the 
true  leader  of  Greek  culture  ;  and  while  the  enemies 
of  Athens  believed  themselves  to  be  asserting  the 
true  doctrine  of  the  City-State,  they  were  in  reality 
playing  into  the  hands  of  another  and  a  far  worse 
tyrant. 

I  shall  recur  to  this  subject  in  another  chapter : 
we  must  now  once  more  turn  our  attention  to  the 
progress  of  the  City-State  in  Italy,  where  we 
shall  have  to  notice  the  same  tendency  to  break  the 
bounds  of  the  TroXt?,  and  with  a  very  different  result. 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE    PERIOD    OF    TRANSITION    AT    ROME 

We  must  now  return  for  a  while  to  that  earlier 
age  of  popular  stir  and  uprising,  the  ultimate  results 
of  which  we  have  just  been  noting  at  Athens. 
Great  as  is  the  obscurity  of  this  period  in  Greece, 
it  is  even  greater  in  Italy.  Of  the  early  history 
of  other  cities  besides  Rome  we  have  hardly  a 
trace.  The  early  Roman  Republic  has  indeed 
what  is  called  a  history,  but  it  is  one  which 
crumbles  away  at  the  first  touch  of  scientific  criti- 
cism. In  the  corresponding  period  of  Greek  history 
the  poems  of  Solon  and  Theognis  afford  us  here  and 
there  a  solid  footing  of  fact.  But  in  the  early 
Roman  Republic  literature  was  unknown ;  such 
meagre  records  as  were  made  after  the  art  of 
writing  came  in, — records  of  the  priestly  colleges, 
or  official  records  preserved  by  noble  families, — 
were  probably_  all  destroyed  when  the  city  was 
captured  by  the  Gauls  in  390  B.C.  The  earliest 
annalists  wrote  more  than  a  century  later  than 
this  catastrophe,  and  what  they  put  together  must 


CHAP.  VII    THE  PEKIOD  OF  TRANSITION  AT  EOME  185 

have  been  traditional  only,  filled  out  and  ornamented 
by  their  own  invention,  by  stories  adapted  from  the 
Greek,  or  by  the  untrustworthy  pride  of  patrician 
houses.  Others  followed  their  example  with  even 
less  conscious  regard  for  truth,  and  in  the  Augustan 
age  Livy  and  Dionysius  worked  up  the  whole  mass 
into  an  artistic  form,  making  use  at  the  same  time 
of  much  antiquarian  lore  which  the  scholars  of  that 
day  had  unearthed  and  were  trying  to  interpret. 

In  its  stories  of  war  and  conquests,  in  its  speeches 
and  dramatic  incidents,  this  history  is  quite  worth- 
less. Yet  there  are  certain  landmarks  which  stand 
out  with  tolerable  clearness  in  the  general  mist,  and 
which  become  realities  for  us  when  our  knowledge 
of  later  Eoman  institutions  is  brought  to  ])ear  on 
them.  The  Eomans,  it  should  never  be  forgotten, 
had  always  a  very  clear  conception  of  the  salient 
features  of  their  own  legal  institutions,  and  a  very 
steady  tradition  as  to  their  origin.  Whatever 
doubt  there  may  be  as  to  dates  and  details,  cer- 
tain laws  mentioned  l)y  the  annalists  may  be  taken 
as  historical  tacts  which  fixed  themselves  on  the 
memory  of  the  Romans  at  a  time  when  very  few 
could  read  or  write  ;  and  of  one  great  piece  of  legis- 
lation some  fragments  survive  even  now.  These 
laws,  and  such  explanations  of  them  as  are  generally 
received,  must  form  the  material  of  the  present 
chapter.  They  will  provide  an  outline  of  this 
period  of  transition,  of  which  we  can  thus  recover  the 
leading  features,  though  the  relation  of  the  events 
to  each  other  cannot  always  be  made  quite  certain.^ 

^  What  folIoAvs  is  a  sketch  in  mere  outline  of  a  period  in  which 


186  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

But  as  a  preliminary  step  we  must  look  for  a 
moment  back  to  the  period  of  the  monarchy.  We 
saw  that  the  aristocratic  government  which  suc- 
ceeded the  last  king  was  probably  the  result  of  a 
reaction  from  an  exaggerated  use  of  kingly  power. 
That  the  monarchy  had  undergone  a  change  in  the 
last  century  of  its  existence  there  is  hardly  a  doubt. 
As  often  happened  in  the  history  of  City-States,  the 
monarchy  in  this  case  changed  into  something  very 
like  a  tyranny,  without  the  interposition  of  an  aris- 
tocratic regime  between  the  two ;  a  change  which 
was  all  the  more  natural  at  Eome  where  the  con- 
ception of  magisterial  j)ower  {imperium)  was  so. 
remarkably  clear  and  strong.  And  the  explanation 
of  this  change  is  not  wholly  wanting.  There  is 
much  evidence  that  the  last  three  kings  were  not 
of  Koman  descent.  The  very  name  Tarquinius  is 
not  Koman  but  Etruscan,  and  it  was  believed  by 
Etruscan  annalists  that  the  original  name  of  Servius 
Tullius  was  Mastarna.     Both  these  names  have  been 

almost  every  fact  is  matter  more  or  less  of  controversy  and  doubt. 
To  give  fall  references  would  be  under  these  circumstances  impos- 
sible without  overburdening  the  text,  and  I  prefer  to  tell  the 
reader  at  once  that  besides  Livy  and  Dionysius,  and  the  first 
volume  of  Mommsen's  History,  the  most  valuable  works  he 
can  refer  to  are  Mommsen's  Staatsrecht,  either  in  the  German 
original  or  in  the  French  translation,  so  far  as  it  has  yet  aj^peared, 
and  Willems'  Droit  public  Romain,  which  is  a  concise  and  useful 
compendium  of  Roman  political  institutions,  superior  to  Ramsay's 
Roman  Antiquities,  which  is  still  the  only  book  of  the  kind  we 
have  in  English.  Professor  Pelham's  article,  "Roman  History," 
in  the  Encydopcedia  Britannica,  about  to  be  republished  in  a  sepa- 
rate form,  contains  a  masterly  analysis  of  the  events  of  this  period. 
Ihne's  Roman  History  is  pleasant  reading  in  its  English  form,  but  of 
very  inferior  value  to  Mommsen . 


VII  THE  PEEIOD  OF  TRANSITION  AT  ROME  187 

found  inscribed  on  Etruscan  wall-paintings  in  the 
forms  Tarchncts  and  Mestrna.  They  are  recognised 
by  most  scholars  as  genuine  Etruscan,  rather  than 
as  Etruscan  forms  of  Latin  names. 

Now  it  is  not  possible  to  believe  that  the 
Eomans  should  have  willingly  elected  a  king  out- 
side their  own  patrician  gentes.  Nor  is  it  easier  to 
believe  that  the  powerful  Etruscan  aristocracy 
should  never  have  been  able  to  subdue  Eome  as 
they  had  subdued  the  original  inhabitants  of  half 
the  peninsula.  Though  Eoman  tradition  naturally 
refused  to  allow  that  the  great  Etruscan  power, 
which  extended  north  and  south  of  Latium,  had  at 
one  time  swallowed  up  the  city  on  the  Tiber,  it  yet 
unconsciously  betrays  the  secret  in  many  ways. 
We  are  justified  in  believing,  in  spite  of  the  doubts 
of  many  critics,  that  an  Etruscan  dynasty  ruled  for 
a  time  in  Eome,  and  ruled  with  something  of  the 
spirit  of  the  tyrant. 

Can  we  make  out,  in  any  degree  of  certainty, 
what  policy  these  foreign  kings  pursued  ?  Eoman 
tradition  universally  ascribed  to  them  some  at  least 
of  the  features  of  the  Greek  tyrant ;  but  this  tra- 
dition, it  may  be  said,  is  hardly  to  be  trusted,  and 
may  be  due  to  the  influence  of  Greeks  who  read 
into  Eoman  history  the  characteristics  of  their  own 
form  of  City-State.  On  the  other  hand,  there  must 
have  been  a  substratum  of  fact  to  which  such  stories 
could  attach  themselves.  Extension  of  Eoman 
territory,  intercourse  with  other  peoples,  especially 
Greeks  and  Etruscans,  oppression  of  the  aristocracy, 
development  of  the  army  and  of  the  less  privileged 


188  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

classes,  reproduce  exactly  the  policy  of  the  tyrant ; 
but  it  would  be  going  too  far  to  assume  that  they 
were  ascribed  without  any  reason  to  a  certain  Servius 
and  a  certain  Tarquinius.     We  may,  however,  leave 

fthe  stories  to  the  critics,  and  turn  our  attention  for 
a  moment  to  two  facts  which  stand  out  clearly  in 
this  period — facts  which  all  Eomans  connected  with 
the  name  of  Servius  Tullius,  and  which  may  beyond 
doubt  be  attributed  to  the  last  age  of  the  monarchy. 
These  are  (1)  the  organisation  of  the  army  in  classes 
and  centuries,  and  (2)  the  division  of  the  city  and 
its  territory  into  four  local  tribes.  The  two  are 
closely  connected  with  each  other,  and  they  begin 

l_the  story  which  we  have  to  tell  in  this  chapter. 

What  was  the  nature  of  the  change  which  these 
two  facts  indicate  ?  We  may  think  of  the  earlier 
form  of  Eoman  State  as  a  union  of  small  communities 
retaining  in  some  degree  the  tie  of  kinship,  or  at 
least  the  idea  of  it.  But  the  influence  of  the  land 
(see  p.  42)  had  long  been  felt,  disintegrating  the 
original  force  of  this  tie.  Alongside  of  the  gentes, 
which  formed  the  basis  of  the  original  union,  there 
had  grown  up,  as  in  Attica,  another  population  which 
stood  to  these  in  a  position  of  inferiority  and  de- 
pendence.      The  gentes   had  the  prestige  of  high 

f^escent,  of  religious  knowledge,  of  wealth  and 
prowess  in  war ;  they  were  the  true  citizens,  cives 
Optimo  jure,  ingenui,  j;«^Wm.i       The    others   were 

^  Both  words,  ingenuus  and  patricius,  suggest  the  idea  of  the 
tie  of  kinship  and  descent  surviving  in  the  City-State  as  a  mark 
of  superiority,  as  against  those  who  were  born  outside  the  sacred 
circle  of  gentes,  or  born  in  imperfect  wedlock. 


VII  THE  PERIOD  OF  TKAXSITIOX  AT  ROME  189 

attached  to  them  as  those  who  hearkened  and 
obeyed  (clientes),  and  the  clear  logic  of  the  Eoman 
mind  had  already  put  this  relation  of  dependence 
into  a  definite  form,  with  distinct  rights  and  duties 
on  each  side.  The  clients  were  thus  a  part  of  the 
State,  but  in  a  diminished  sense  (minuto  jure)  :  they 
could  hold  no  office  under  the  king ;  they  could  not 
take  the  auspices ;  they  could  not  marry  into  the 
families  of  their  patroni,  and  probably  could  not 
share  the  advantage  of  the  public  land.  They 
were  in  statu  pitpillari,  and  could  only,  as  it  were, 
be  represented  by  a  tutor.  But  they  were  pro- 
tected as  a  matter  of  duty  by  their  j^f^^^^oni.  They 
had  at  least  a  piece  of  garden  ground  given  them 
sufficient  to  live  upon ;  they  were  admitted  into 
the  curice — the  earliest  political  division  of  the 
State,  —  and  it  seems  likely  that  they  could  in 
these  divisions  answer  Yes  or  No  to  such  questions  / 
as  the  king  chose  to  lay  before  the  whole  people. 

What  was  the  origin  of  these  clients  is  a  ques- 
tion which  does  not  concern  us  here.  What  does 
concern  us  is  to  note  how  they  came  to  form  the 
material  of  the  later  Eoman  State.  If  a  patrician 
family  died  out,  the  relationship  between  it  and  its 
clients  ceased  to  exist.  There  may  have  been  other 
ways  in  which  the  bond  of  dependence  was  relaxed, 
but  this  is  the  only  one  which  we  can  discern  at  all 
clearly.  These  emancipated  clients  could  not  be"7 
turned  adrift,  for  they  were  already  part  of  the 
State;  they  remained  so  after  their  emancipation, 
and  were  called  by  one  of  the  many  Latin  words 
which  bid  fair  to  be  immortal.      They  became  the 


190  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP, 


plebs,  or  multitude,  retaining  exactly  the  diminished 
rights  they  had  before,  but  being  now  quite  inde- 

l^pendent  of  patrician  authority.  In  a  certain  sense, 
indeed,  they  were  in  a  worse  position ;  they  had  to 
stand  on  their  rights  for  themselves,  and  could  get  no 
help  from  patrician  ^a^?'om.  They  had  no  organised 
religion  of  their  own,  no  legal  locus  standi  in  the 
State  ;  yet  they  were  still  a  part  of  it,  served  in  the 
army  of  curiae,  and  apparently,  as  we  saw,  voted  in 
the  curiate  assembly.  Steadily  they  increased  in 
numbers,  and  more  and  more  they  came  to  be  felt 
as  an  indispensable  part  of  the  State ;  but  citizens 
in  the  true  sense  they  certainly  were  not.  They 
were  now  free  men,  while  as  clients  they  had  been 
only  half  free ;  but  their  freedom  was  a  negative 
one,  and  brought  no  positive  rights.  They  were 
wholly  outside  the  sacred  circle  of  the  gentes ;  out- 
side the  groups  of  real  or  supposed  kin  in  which  all 
cives  Optimo  jure  were  comprised. 

^  This  plebs,  the  many  as  against  the  few,  slowly 
won  for  itself  a  definite  and  recognised  position  both 

i  in  social  and  political  life.  Gradually  they  must 
have  come  to  be  reckoned  as  ingenui,  and  as  form- 
ing gentes  of  their  own ;  and  so  they  came  also 
to  have  their  own  popular  worships  like  the  Demos 
in  Attica  in  the  sixth  century.  How  these  steps 
were  one  by  one  secured  we  can  hardly  do  more 
than  guess ;  but  it  is  the  story  of  their  admission 
to  political  equality  which  concerns  us  now,  and  we 
may  leave  the  other  questions  to  conjecture. 

Up  to  the  time  of  the  later  kings  nothing  had 
been  done   to  utilise  and  organise  this  population 


VII  THE  PERIOD  OF  TRANSITION  AT  ROME  191 

as  a  parti  of  the  State.  It  could  not  indeed  be 
united  in  'any  real  social  union  to  the  patrician 
gentes,  for '  it  did  not  share  in  their  religious  com- 
munion. But  Servius  TuUius,  or  some  monarch  of  T 
genius  (the  name  is  of  little  moment),  saw  that  it 
could  be  turned  to  good  account.  It  may  be  that 
wars  were  at  this  time  frequent,  and  that  the  king 
was  hard  pressed ;  certainly  the  great  city -wall 
was  built  at  this  time,^  and  as  surely  was  the  new 
organisation  a  military  one.  The  city  and  its  ter- 
ritory were  divided  into  four  regions  or  local  tribes, 
comprising  all  free  men,  whether  patricians  or 
plebeians,  who  possessed  and  occupied  a  certain 
amount  of  land  (assidui).  The  object  of  this  was 
doubtless  to  get  an  administrative  basis  for  military 
and  financial  purposes.  Following  on  this  there 
came  a  division  of  all  those  free  men  into  five 
summonings  (classes) ;  the  first  of  these  being  the 
largest  in  number,  and  comprising  those  who  had 
most  land,  and  so  downwards  to  the  fifth.  These 
were  again  divided  into  bodies  of  a  hundred  (cen- 
turice),  which  formed  the  tactical  unit  of  the  newly- 
constructed  army.  Thus  the  men  of  the  plebs,  or 
all  of  them  who  were  settled  on  the  land  as  free- 
holders, found  themselves  part  of  a  real  working 
organisation,  comprising  the  whole  community 
(populus),  and  destined  for  military  purposes. 
They  gained  no  political  advantage ;  they  had 
no  more  to  do  with  the  auspicia  ^  and  the  imperium 

^  For  the  Servian  wall  and  its  existing  remains,  see  Professor 
Middleton's  Eomc  in  1889,  eh.  ii. 

-  For  the  auspicia  and  the  right  of  taking  them,  see  Mommsen, 


192  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

than  they  had  before.  They  were  simply  utilised 
and  organised.  But  their  relation  to  the  State 
was  made  much  more  distinct ;  they  were  no  longer 
merely  attached  to  patrician  gentes,  no  longer  in  an 
ambiguous  position  as  regards  citizenship ;  they 
were  embodied  in  the  State  on  the  principle  of 
settlement  and  locality,  destined  here,  as  every- 
where else,  slowly  to  obliterate  the  older  principle 
of  kinship.  The  revolution  was  of  the  same  nature 
as  that  of  Cleisthenes  at  Athens ;  all  primitive 
\  divisions  of  the  people  were  superseded,  though  not 
jdestroyed,  by  the  new  ones.  The  State  is  throwing 
off  the  dress  of  its  infancy,  and  preparing  to  live 
the  life  of  vigorous  youth  in  a  new  form. 

At  this  point,  then,  and  under  the  same  influ- 
ences as  in  Greece,  the  State  seems  in  a  fair  way  to 
make  progress  towards  democracy.  The  aristocratic 
society,  of  which,  as  I  have  pointed  out  before,  the 
early  monarchies  were  only  the  constitutional 
expression,  has  passed  under  the  influence  of  a 
form  of  tyrannis,  and  the  multitude  has  been 
brought  forward  as  an  essential  factor  in  the 
.  State.  But  it  is  not  given  to  every  people  to 
develop  the  art  of  governing  itself;  it  would 
seem  to  need  a  peculiar  type  of  character  to 
produce  this  result  as  it  was  produced  at  Athens, 
— a  type  in  which  intellectual  quickness  is  not  too 
strongly  tempered  by  reverence  for  ancient  usage 
and  for  ancient  social  distinctions.  Now  the 
Eoman,  whether  patrician   or   plebeian,   had   little 

Staatsrecht  (ed.  2)  i.  73  foil.  ;  Willems,  Droit  public  Romain,  232 
foil. 


VII  THE  PERIOD  OF  TRANSITION  AT  ROME  193 

intellectual  quickness,  but  he  had  a  marvellous 
capacity  for  discipline,  and  an  unbounded  venera- 
tion for  the  customs  of  his  forefathers.  It  was 
natural,  then,  that  at  Eome,  when  the  tyrannis  came 
to  an  end,  it  should  leave  society  and  manners  com- 
paratively unchanged ;  and  in  fact  we  find  that  as 
soon  as  it  disappears  the  aristocratic  idea  asserts 
itself  as  strongly  as  ever.  The  aristocracy,  as  we^ 
have  already  seen,  adapted  the  kingly  constitution 
to  their  own  ends,  and  the  State  became  aristocratic  / 
in  form  as  well  as  in  fact. 

The  patrician  families  alone  could  exercise  the^ 
imperium ;  they  alone  knew  the  unwritten  law ; 
they  alone  knew  the  secrets  of  religion, — how  to 
take  the  auspices,  how  to  purify  the  State,  how  to 
conduct  marriages  and  funerals  in  that  traditional 
way  which  alone  could  find  favour  with  the  gods^ 
On  the  other  hand,  the  plebeian  had  his  place  in 
the  army,  and  might  fight  side  by  side  with  the 
patrician,  but  he  could  never  attain  to  high  com- 
mand. He  might  accumulate  wealth,  and  add  field 
to  field,  but  if  he  had  a  quarrel  with  a  patrician 
neighbour  he  had  to  submit  it  to  a  patrician  magis- 
trate, to  be  decided  by  rules  of  which  he  was  wholly 
ignorant.  If  he  borrowed  stock  or  plant  from  his 
neighbour,  he  had  to  give  his  own  land  or  person  as 
security  for  the  debt.^  He  could  not  marry  into  a 
patrician  family  without  violating  the  most  sacred 
prejudices.     Thus   the  "  men   of  the  fathers "  and 

^  On  the  Roman  law  of  debt  see  Clark,  Early  Roman  Law,  p. 
108  foil. ;  and  article  ' '  Nexum  "  in  tlie  new  edition  of  the  Did. 
of  Antiquities. 

0 


194  '  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


the  "  men  of  the  multitude  "  stood  face  to  face  in 
the  same  State ;  the  former  in  exclusive  possession 
of  political  power,  and  forming  a  solid  aristocratic 
government  of  high-born  and  wealthy  men ;  the 
latter  giving  their  services  to  the  State  in  the 
newly-organised  army  of  centuries,  but  politically 
almost  helpless,  the  machinery  of  government  being 
wholly  out  of  their  reach. 

But  the  innate  political  wisdom  of  the  Eoman  > 
people,  the  increase  of  the  plebs  by  the  absorption 
of  conquered  peoples,  and  the  necessities  of  warfare 
in    the    period    which    followed    the    abolition    of 
monarchy,  combined  in    course   of  time   to    unite 
these  two  distinct   bodies  into  one  solid    political   , 
whole.     The  process  went  on  through  two  centuries, 
but  was   at   last  completed,  and  left  no  ill  blood 
behind  it.     The  patrician  position  was  .forced  atalTl 
points  ;  the  fortresses  of  legal  knowledge,  of  religious  j 
knowledge,  of  executive  government,  of  social  exclu- 
siveness,   were    carried    one    after   the   other,  and,  J 
according   to   the    traditional  accounts,  with  littlej 
violence  and  no  bloodshed.       Let  us  trace  the  story 
of  this  process  of  unification  step  by  step,  leaving 
to  another  chapter  the  question  as  to  the  form  of 
government  which  was  the  result  of  it. 

At  the  very  outset  of  the  Eepublic,  accord- 
ing to  the  received  tradition,  the  new  form  of 
the  armed  people — which  we  may  believe  to  have 
been  so  far  used,  as  it  was  originally  intended, 
only  for  mihtary  and  financial  purposes — began 
to  be  now  applied  in  the  election  of  magistrates ; 
the   centuriate  army  became  a  centuriate  assemblyTi 


VII  THE  PERIOD  OF  TRANSITION  AT  ROME  195 

Thus  the  plebs  at  once  gained  a  voice  in  the 
election  of  aristocratic  magistrates.  And  more ;  to 
this  centuriate  assembly  they  could  now  appeal 
equally  with  patricians  if  a  consul  threatened  theni  \ 
with  capital  punishment.  The  aristocracy,  in  se- 
curing their  own  liberties  against  the  power  of  the 
executive,  could  not  help  going  some  way  towards 
securing  those  of  the  plebs  as  well. 

But  this  security  was  really  of  little  value  to  the 
plebeian.  Beyond  doubt,  the  assembly  of  centuries 
was  dominated  by  patrician  influence.  The  mass 
of  small  plebeian  freeholders  had  no  resource  if  they 
were  subjected  to  severe  treatment,  however  legal. 
The  laws  or  customary  rules  of  debt,  for  example, 
were  terribly  hard ;  and  all  small  agriculturists  are 
liable  to  be  driven  to  borrow  by  bad  seasons  or 
unlucky  accidents.^  The  Servian  census  proves  that 
the  Eomans  were  a  people  of  farmers,  and  it  also 
proves  that  their  holdings  differed  greatly  in  size. 
Under  such  conditions  it  is  almost  inevitable  that 
the  small  holder  should  borrow  of  the  greater ; 
and  if  he  does  so  under  such  a  law  as  the  Eoman 
law  of  debt,  administered  by  magistrates  over  whom 
he  has  practically  no  control,  it  is  inevitable  that 
he  should  come  under  bondage  to  his  creditor.  The 
only  resource  the  plebs  could  fall  back  upon  was  to 
unite  in  depriving  the  State  of  their  services,  to 
refuse  the  military  service  without  which  the  State 

^  We  have  seen  the  effects  at  Athens  of  this  inherent  weakness 
of  a  society  of  small  holders  of  land  (see  p.  130).  It  may  be  illus- 
trated at  the  present  day  from  India,  Russia,  Ireland,  and  even 
Switzerland. 


I 


196  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

could  not  resist  its  enemies,  and,  as  their  brethren 
had  so  often  done  in  Greece,  to  leave  the  city  and 
find  a  home  elsewhere. 

This  must  be  what  is  indicated  by  the  famous 
story  of  the  Secession  to  the  Sacred  Mount.  It  was 
a  strike  on  a  grand  scale,  and  in  a  State  instead  of 
private  undertaking.  Such  combinations  to  resist 
oppression,  and  to  gain  some  control  over  the  op- 
pressing management,  were  not  possible  or  needed 
in  the  same  form  as  our  strikes,  which  are  the 
struggles  of  organised  labour  against  organised 
private  capital ;  but  they  occur  both  in  Greek  and 
Eoman  history  in  the  sense  of  practical  protests  of 
one  class  against  the  domination  of  another.  The 
plebs  marched  out  to  the  Anio  after  refusing  their 
services  at  a  levy,  intending  to  found  a  new  city 
on  the  banks  of  that  river.  Eome  was  at  the  mercy 
of  her  enemies,  helpless  and  deprived  of  that  middle 
class  which  is  the  source  of  all  political  strength. 
But  the  plebs  were  helpless  too.  Where  was  the 
genius  to  be  found  who  could  overcome  for  them 
the  tremendous  difficulties  in  which  they  were 
placed  ?  Cities  could  not  be  founded  by  any  one  who 
wished,  without  the  aid  of  priests  and  religious  lore, 
without  the  elements  of  cohesion  in  the  form  of  king 
and  gentes.  Mutual  perplexity  brought  mutual  con- 
cession, as  the  story  suggests  ;  and  the  plebs  returned 
to  Eome  to  fight  again  for  the  old  city,  and  also  to 
fight  a  long  series  of  political  battles  under  leaders 
now  definitely  recognised  by  the  whole  State. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  such  singular  event  in 
ancient  history  as  the  establishment  of  the  tribunate 


i 


VII  THE  PERIOD  OF  TRAXSITION  AT  ROME  197 

of  the  plebs  in  494  B.C.  ;  certainly  there  is  none  of  \ 
which  the  results  were  so  strange  and  far-reaching.^ 
Nor  is  there  any  known  fact  which  brings  before  us 
so  clearly  the  contrast  of  privileged  and  unprivileged 
in  a  City-State,  or  the  distinctness  with  which  the 
Eomans  conceived  this  contrast.     We  see  here  the 
almost  absolute  separation  of  noble  from  ignoble,  of 
the  members  of  the  ancient  clans  from  the  population 
which  had  grown  up  outside  them.     For  these  tri- 
bunes had  nothing  to  do  with  the  State  as  a  whole ; 
they  were  not  magistrates  of  the  State ;  they  had 
no  seat  in  the  Senate;  they  were  not  even   cives 
Optimo  jure.      They  had  no  direct  hold  upon    theH 
policy  of  the  executive  and  its  council.     They  were 
simply  officers  of  the  plebs,  and,  so  far  as  we  know, 
their  powers  were  limited  to  the  protection  of  ple- 
'^  beians  against  the  action  of  the  State  and  its  magis-  \ 
trates.      And  this  protective  power  could    only  be^ 
exercised  within  the  city  and  a  mile  beyond  its  walls  ; 
against  the  imperium  militice,  the  absolute  power  of 
the  consul  in  the  field,  they  were  quite  powerless. 
Within  the  walls,  if  a  plebeian  called  upon  them  to 
help  him,  the  patrician  magistrate  must  withdraw 
his  lictors ;  but  in  this  negative  sense  only  could 
they  bring  influence  to  bear  upon  the  imperium. 

But  what  guarantee  could  there  be  that  the  j 
magistrates  w^ould  respect  the  interference  of  these  j 
plebeian  officers  ?  There  must  be  some  special  bond 
to  secure  this  respect,  for  the  nature  of  the  office 
suggested  none  of  itself.  The  tribune  was  elected 
without  auspicia,  and  no  religious  sanction  protected 
him  such  as  protected  those  who  were  responsible 


198  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

for  the  State  religion.  The  device  invented  for  this 
purpose  v^as  a  curious  one,  and  well  illustrates  the 
peculiar  character  of  the  Eoman  political  mind, 
which  demanded  the  sanction  of  the  gods  for  every 
step  taken.     The  tribunes  were,  during  their  year 

(of  office,  devoted  to  the  gods  (sacrosancti)  ;  the  bind- 
ing force  of  the  religious  idea  was  called  in  to  protect 

i^them.     De  Coulanges,  going  perhaps   too  far,  has 
called  them  a  kind  of  living  altars  to  which  the 
oppressed  could  fly  for  refuge ;  at  any  rate,  any  one 
'who  violated  their  sanctity  was  guilty  of  sacrilege. 
^'  The  act  of  legislation  by  which  this  was  secured  was 
itself  a  lex  sacrata^ — that  is,  a  kind  of  treaty  between  r  i 
two  communities  foreign  to  each  other,  whose  rela-  J 
tions  need  to  be  controlled  by  some  special  religious    •^ 
security.      Soon  afterwards  the  position  of  the  tri- 
bunes was  further  strengthened   by  a  law  which 
forbade  interference  with  any  assembly  of  the  plebs 
which  a  tribune  had  summoned,  and  perhaps  also 
giving  them  some  means  of  securing  the  punish- 
ment of  any  one  who  violated  their  sanctity  or  hin- 
dered their  activity. 

It  is  not  necessary  here  to  trace  the  steps  by  which 
these  germs  of  authority  grew  gradually  into  a  most 
formidable  power,  positive  as  well  as  negative.  Let 
us  keep  to  the  Tribunate  as  it  originally  was,  and 
note  the  stage  it  marks  in  the  transitional  period 
we  are  traversing.  It  is  no  advance  towards  a  real 
political  union  that  is  here  indicated.  The  aristo- 
cracy as  yet  shows  no  sign  that  it  can  entertain  the 

^  For  the  meaning  of  these  terms   see  Cicero,  pro  Balbo,  ch. 
xiv.  32. 


VII  THE  PERIOD  OF  TRANSITION  AT  ROME  199 

idea  of  a  State  uniting  the  multitude  with  the  gentes 
in  one  body  politic ;  the  barrier  between  the  two  is 
even  more  distinctly  marked  here  than  it  was  under 
the  kings.  In  the  armed  host  alone  the  two  appear 
as  one,  and  so  also  in  the  form  in  which  that  host 
meets  for  political  purposes  (comitia  centuriata).  In 
all  other  respects  the  plebs  appears  now  as  a  dis- 
tinct corporation,  with  officers  and  a  kind  of  charter 
of  its  own,  enabling  those  officers  to  transact  its  busi- 
ness in  a  purely  plebeian  assembly,  meeting  in  tribes. 

But  the  very  distinctness  of  this  separation  1 
brought  the  plebs  into  a  new  prominence.  The 
mass  of  unorganised  humanity  that  seceded  to  the 
Sacred  Mount  had  been  given  a  form  and  a  voice, 
and  could  now  act  and  speak,  imperfectly,  perhaps,] 
but  efficiently.  And  as  every  motive  which  could 
call  forth  their  speech  or  action  was  rooted  in  the 
inequality  of  their  position  in  relation  to  the  patrician 
executive,  we  are  not  surprised  to  find  them  using 
their  new  advantages  to  do  away  with  that  in- 
equality. They  have  at  last  secured  the  means  of 
doing  this.  They  are  no  longer  a  mere  rabble,  like 
the  followers  of  Jack  Cade,  or  the  Kentish  masses 
who  flocked  to  London  withWyatt  in  1553.  They 
are  a  compact  and  organised  body,  which  has  already 
gained  its  charter  and  its  officers,  and  is  about  to  use 
these  advantages  to  obtain  others  still  more  effectual 
and  permanent.  Their  claim  is  now  for  union  and] 
equality;  union  with]the  patrician  City-State  of  which 
they  have  so  far  been,  as  it  were,  a  mere  annex  or 
suburb,  and  equality  with  it  in  all  its  rights  and 
honours  and  privileges,  both  social  and  political.        -^ 


200  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

The    first    step   they   gained    in   this    direction  \ 
was    by   securing  what    the   Greeks  called    Icrovo- 
fjbia,  or  equality  in  the  incidence  of  the  law  on  all] 
classes    of   society.     The    law,    as   we    have    seen, 
meant  simply  the  rules  of  practice,  in  public  and 
private  life  alike,  which  had  grown  up  as  the  State 
grew,  and  formed  the  outward  expression  of  the  im- 
jperium.    Up  to  this  time  the  knowledge  of  these  rules 
had  been  a  secret  science,  of  which  the  patrician 
families  were  the  only  craftsmen.     All  others  were 
still  ignorant  of  the  art  of  government,  and  unfit  to 
propitiate  the  gods,  which  was  not  the  least  import- 
ant part  of  that  art.      To  borrow  another  metaphor 
from  the  modern  world,  the  multitude  was  a  multi- 
tude of  hands,  suited  to  fight  and  to  till  the  ground, 
but  wholly  ignorant  of  the  science  which  could  turn 
their   labour   to    account.      But   in   451   B.C.    they* 
began  to  be  initiated  in  the  craft.     In  that  yeaiH 
the  rules   of  practice  were  at  last  embodied  in  a' 
written   code   of  ten  tables,  to  which   two   others) 
were  shortly  added.     This  is  the  fans  aeqid  juris 
of  Roman  law ;  it  is  also  the  first  unquestionable 
fact  in  the  history  of  the  Eepublic,  for  many  genuine 
fragments  of  it  still  survive.^ 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  this  great  result 
was  brought  about  by  the  same  agency  as  in  the 
parallel  revolution  at  Athens.  The  details  of  the 
story  are  indeed  quite  worthless,  but  the  fact  is 
beyond  doubt  that  the  new  code  was  drawn  up  by 

^  For  the  fragments  of  the  Twelve  Tables  see  Wordsworth, 
Fi-agments  and  Specimens  of  Early  Latin,  p.  254  foil.  ;  or  Bruns, 
Pontes  juris  Romani,  p.  16  foil.  (ed.  4). 


VII  THE  PERIOD  OF  TRANSITION  AT  ROME  201 

a  Board  of  Ten,  having  almost  absolute  power,  while 
Consulship  and  Tribunate  were  for  the  time  sus- 
pended. The  position  of  this  board  thus  resembles 
that  of  Solon,  and  of  the  Greek  arbiter ;  it  is  a 
genuine  example  of  the  tendency  to  have  recourse 
to  absolutism  in  settling  internal  troubles  which' 
were  the  result  of  fermentation.  But  the  Eomaus, 
with  their  singular  gift  for  legal  definition,  and  their 
political  conception  of  collegiate  power,  placed  this 
new  power  on  a  constitutional  footing,  shared  it 
between  ten  members,  gave  it  a  definite  task  to  do, 
and  called  on  it  to  resign  when  the  task  was  accom- 
plished.^ The  work  was  so  well  done  that  it  lasted 
the  Eoman  State  throughout  the  whole  of  its 
political  life.  But  the  immediate  result  of  it  was"], 
to  give  the  plebSj,__through  their  tribunes^^  a  real 
controllinp;  j)ower  oyer  the  pgi;rician  executiye,  and 
so  to  supply  exactly  that  political  basis  of  action] 
which  had  been  wanting  so  far.  At  this  point  it 
may  be  said  that  politics  really  begin — that  is,  the 
reciprocal  action  oF^parties  and  interests  in  a 
single  State  as  distinguished  from  negotiations 
between  two  distinct  communities.  The  whole 
State  has  now  a  commoncode  to  refer^jo  in 
all  legal  difficulties^  Consuls  and  tribunes  are 
now  officers  of  the  same  State,  and  the  tribunes 
can  take  measures,  now  they  know  the  secrets  of 

1  The  same  formality  is  well  seen  in  the  method  of  appointing 
a  Dictator.  The  Dictatorship  affords  another  example  of  recur- 
rence to  the  monarchical  principle  ;  but  its  holder  was,  strictly- 
speaking,  only  the  collega  inajor  of  the  consuls,  and  was  limited 
both  in  respect  of  the  work  lie  had  to  do,  and  of  the  time  he  was 
to  do  it  in. 


202  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

the  imperium,  to  gain  a  positive  control  over  the 
executive  which  exercised  it. 

That  the  battle  had  been  already  practically 
won,  even  before  the  last  two  tables  had  been 
completed,  is,  made  clear  by  the  annalists.  The  list 
of  the  second  Board  of  Ten  comprises  some  names 
which  are  almost  beyond  donbt  plebeian ;  and  this 
is  the  first  example  we  meet  with  of  plebeians 
actually  sharing  the  executive  power.  And  nowl 
the  victorious  side  begins  rapidly  to  press  its 
advantage.  In  449  the  consuls  Valerius  and 
Horatius  passed  a  law  giving  the  plebeian  assembly 
over  which  the  tribunes  presided  a  real  sovereign 
power  in  legislation,  binding  the  whole  State  under 
certain  conditions  which  we  cannot  now  recovexJ 
Up  to  this  time  such  resolutions  as  the  plebs  had 
passed  (plebiscita)  had  been  binding  only  on  the 
plebs  itself;  they  were  no  more  laws  of  the  State 
than  the  tribunes  were  magistrates  of  the  State. 
This  Lex  Valeria-Horatia  marks  the  beginning  of 
an  entirely  new  status  for  this  plebeian  assembly. 
Step  by  step  it  gained  a  legislative  power  for  the 
whole  State  concurrent  with  that  of  the  patricio- 
plebeian  assembly  of  centuries.  The  latter  was 
never  done  away  or  dropped,  for  reasons  which  can 
only  be  thoroughly  understood  by  those  who  have 
studied  the  Eoman  mind  and  character  in  its 
institutions ;  but  it  was  gradually  to  a  great  extent 
superseded. 

Henceforward  we  have  the  strange  spectacle  of 
two  sovereign  assemblies  side  by  side — the  populus, 
or    host    of    the    entire   people,   presided   over    by 


VII  THE  PERIOD  OF  TRANSITION  AT  ROME  203 

consuls  (comitia  centuriata),  and  the  plebs  meeting 
in  tribes  and  presided  over  by  tribunes  {concilia 
plehis).  And  this  means,  to  put  it  briefly,  that 
the  plebs  is  now  in  the  fullest  sense  part  of  the 
State,  and  that  their  tribunes  are  now  State 
magistrates. 

Four  years  later  the  process  of  social  union,  as^ 
distinct  from  political,  which  had  no  doubt  been 
long  going  on  without  legal  sanction,  is  marked  by 
a  law  enabling  patricians  and  plebeians  to  inter- 
marry, and  so  to  form  one  species  where  there  hadj 
been  two  before.  Doubtless  there  were  great 
searchings  of  heart  over  a  measure  which  must 
have  hurt  many  ancient   prejudices,  and  Livy  has 

^   reproduced  these  misgivings  with  all  his  rhetorical 
skill. -^       The    gentes    were    losing     their    religious 
exclusiveness ;    the   crowd  was    pushing   profanely 
^   V  into  the  sacred  ground  of  high  descent.     But  this 
P   must  have  been  going  on  for  at  least  a  generation 
\     before  any  one  could  have  been  audacious  enough 
A     to   propose   to  legalise  it ;  and  we  may  take   this 
-,      Lex  Canuleia  as  the  best  possible  proof  that  there 
,]       was  now  a  growing  tendency  on  both  sides  to  look 
upon  the  State  as  one  complete  whole,  with  common 
interests  and  common  duties.     The  State  has  won 
its  final  victory  over  the  gens. 
V  And  in  the  same  year  we  meet  with  yet  anotherl 

nJ   »-'step    forward,    which    is    attributed    to    the    same| 
^  y-^  Canuleius.      The  question  had  been  already  raised 
why  plebeians  should  be  excluded  any  longer  from 
that  supreme  executive  which  had  now  been  placed 

^  Livy,  iv.  1  foil. 


I 


204  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

under  the  restriction  of  written  laws.  There  had 
been  plebeian  decemvirs,  and  there  were  undoubtedly 
rich  plebeians  attaining  to  eminence  in  the  army, 
the  conduct  of  which  was  at  this  time  of  constant 
warfare  the  special  duty  of  the  Consul.  Why  should 
not  such  men  be  entrusted  with  the  highest  com- 
mand ?  This  question  was  now  answered  by  a  law  1 
which  made  it  possible  in  any  year  for  the  Senate 
to  decide  on  the  election  of  six  military  tribunes 
(officers  of  the  highest  rank  in  the  legion),  invested 
with  consular  i7)iperium  like  the  decemvirs,  and  ^ 
taking  the  place  of  consuls.  In  other  words,  if 
there  were  eminent  plebeian  officers  their  services 
might  now  be  utilised  by  the  State  as  supreme 
commanders  without  admitting  them  to  the  patrician 
privileges  of  curule  chair  and  purple-edged  toga.  / 
According  to  the  annalists  and  the  Fasti,  it  was 
indeed  forty-five  years  before  the  ability  of  any 
plebeian  was  thus  actually  called  into  play ;  but  if 
the  law  be  rightly  dated,  the  inference  is  that  the 
idea  of  service  done  for  the  State,  which  itself 
implied  a  certain  amount  of  wealth,  was  beginning 
to  override  the  idea  of  gentile  exclusiveness. 

From  this  point  follows  a  long  period  in  which 
we  have  no  landmark  of  political  advance.  Though 
the  records  of  it  are  purely  traditional,  it  was  beyond 
doubt  a  period  of  continued  wars  with  the  neigh- 
bouring ^quians  and  Volscians,  and  with  the 
Etruscan  city  of  Veii,  resulting  in  a  great  exten- 
sion of  Eoman  territory,  and  a  great  increase  in  the 
number  of  plebeian  citizens.  The  terrible  Gallic 
invasion    of    390    B.C.    united   all  in   the   common 


VII  THE  PERIOD  OF  TRANSITION  AT  ROME  205 

defence,  and  brought  out  their  best  qualities.     Such 
a  period  of  wars  must  have  wrought  slowly  but 

/  surely  a  great  social  revolution  which  prepared  the 
way  for  the  completion  of  the  political  one.  Indi- 
viduals among  the  plebs  must  have  become  noted 
for  their  prowess  and  for  their  wealth.     Patrician 

f  families  may  have  died  out  under  the  stress  of  war. 
/  The  great  holders  of  land,  increasing  in  number  as 
[  I  the  territory  increased,  were  now  plebeian  as  much 
as  patrician,  and  they  came  thus  to  have  an  iden- 
tical interest,  and  the  same  way  of  looking  at  public 
questions.  More  and  more  it  became  visible  that 
the  real  material  of  the  State  was  plebeian,  and  that 
the  old  families  could  no  longer  be  thought  of  as 
the  only  true-born  cives.  New  worships  began  to 
gain  ground  associated  chiefly  with  the  plebs.  When 
the  Gauls  had  retired,  and  the  State  was  once  more 
free  from  immediate  danger,  it  became  obvious  that 
the  time  was  at  hand  when  this  slow  revolution  in 
ideas  must  take  shape  in  a  final  victory  of  the 
plebs. 

In  the  year  367,  after  a  struggle  of  ten  years,  i 
this  final  victory  was  won.      There  was  no  revolu- 
tion, no  bloodshed,  only  persistent  attack  on  the  onei 
side  and  obstinate  resistance  on  the  other.      The 
Tribunate,  in  later  times  the  instrument  of  passion 
and  violence,  here  served  the  State  well,  and  at  last 
secured   the    necessary    constitutional     reform    by 
reducing   the  machinery   of  the   constitution   to  a 
deadlock.       The  tribunes   Licinius   and  Sextius  in"! 
this  year  passed  a  law  restoring  the  Consulship  *  in 
place  of  the  military  Tribunate,  and  enacting  that 


206  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


I 


henceforward    one    consul   must    necessarily    be    a 
\  plebeian.^ 

The  work  of  these  two  tribunes  may  be  looked 
on  as  the  second  of  the  three  most  conspicuous 
landmarks  in  the  political  development  of  Eonie. 
The  first  was  the  reform  attributed  to  Servius 
Tullius ;  the  third  was  to  wait  for  nearly  three  cen- 
turies. The  ordinances  of  SM^vius  first  organised 
the  plebs,  and  by  givmg  it  duties  to  perform  for 
the  State  made  it  and  its  services  mdispensable. ' 
After  an  interval  of  at  least  a  century  and  a  half 
the  Licinio-Sextian  laws,  passed  by  the  plebs  itself  k 
as  a  sovereign  legislative  body,  secured  for  it  a  per- 
manent share  in  the  executive  government  of  the 
whole  State.     The  outward  political  form  of  Eome 

fas  a  City-State  was  now  complete,  and  no  further 
striking  change  took  place,  until  once  more  a  new 
population  claimed  admission  to  the  State  and  its 
government,  and  in  enforcing  their  claim  initiated 
a  vital  change  in  the  very  nature  of  the  Eoman 


^polity. 


It  is  worth  noting  that  these  leading  events  in 
the  history  of  Eome,  as  well  as  the  more  subordinate 
ones  we  have  also  mentioned,  are  not  connected  with 
the  names  of  any  individuals  whose  personality  has 
struck  root  in  human  memory.  The  laws  bore  the 
names  of  their  authors,  but  these  are  names  and 
little   more.      In   Athenian   history   it   is   just   the 

^  This  law  was  not  at  first  faithfully  adhered  to  by  the  patricians. 
But  the  Licinian  law  was  re-enacted  in  B.C.  342,  and  in  the  same 
year  it  was  further  enacted  that  both  consuls  might  henceforward 
be  plebeians. 


VII  THE  PERIOD  OF  TRANSITION  AT  ROME  207 

opposite.  There  the  collective  wisdom  of  the  com- 
munity seems  reflected  in  the  virtue  or  the  ambition 
of  Solon  and  Cleisthenes,  Themistocles  and  Pericles. 
The  earlier  heroes  of  Eoman  tradition,  Coriolanus, 
for  example,  or  Camillus,  were  patrician  and  con- 
servative ;  the  leaders  of  progress  either  were  not 
suffered  to  survive  as  heroes,  or,  as  may  very  well 
have  been  the  case,  had  nothing  heroic  about  them. 
But  if  they  did  not  leave  their  features  graven  on 
the  stone,  these  Eoman  builders  at  least  understood 
their  trade ;  and  this  is  more  especially  true  of  the 
Licinius  and  Sextius  who  completed  the  equalisation 
of  the  patrician  and  plebeian  orders. 

The  work  of  these  two  tribunes  was  as  completely 
rounded  off  as  that  of  Solon  himself  Like  Solon, 
they  seem  to  have  understood  that  political  advan- 
tages are  comparatively  useless  except  in  the  hands 
of  men  who  are  socially  and  ^economically  com/or^- 
able ;  that  agitation  is  for  men  who  seek  comfort, 
while  government  is  for  men  whose  discomfort  is 
already  alleviated.  Thus  with  their  great  political 
law  they  combined  others  which  were  meant  to 
maintain  the  well-being  and  numbers  of  the  Eoman 
middle  class  of  freeholders  •,  and  for  this  combination 
they  struggled  hard  for  years,  even  in  spite  of  the 
sluggishness  of  the  very  class  for  which  they  were 
fighting.  They  aimed  directly  at  reducing  to  a 
minimum  the  two  chronic  evils  of  the  Eoman 
economy — large  private  estates,  and  the  slave- 
labour  employed  in  their  cultivation ;  so  that  the 
smaller  holders,  now  admitted  to  a  full  share  in  the 
government,  might  retain  their  land,  or  at  least  find 


208  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

employment  on  the  estates  of  their  richer  neigh- 
bours. Their  motives  in  this  struggle  may  have 
been  less  pure  than  Solon's,^  but  their  efforts  were 
plainly  directed  to  the  same  end  as  his. 

Their  work  marks,  indeed,  a  stage  of  development 
in  some  sense  even  nearer  to  democracy  than  that 
of  Solon.  The  highest  executive  office  was  now  open 
to  all  citizens ;  the  popular  legislative  assemblies 
were  sovereign  in  the  constitution ;  and  if  these  laws 
were  faithfully  carried  out  there  would  be  a  fairly 
even  distribution  of  wealth  throughout  the  com- 
munity, such  as  would  enable  all  to  take  a  reasonable 
amount  of  interest  in  the  government,  propor- 
tionate to  their  own  share  in  the  general  wellbeing. 
On  the  face  of  things  there  was  no  reason  why 
genuine  democratic  institutions  should  not  have 
taken  root  and  grown,  and  there  are  some  signs  in 
the  annals  a  generation  or  two  later  that  such  a 
growth  was  actually  beginning.^  But  true  democracy 
is  a  plant  of  very  great  rarity,  which  will  not  grow 
on  every  soil.  Why  it  withered  at  Eome — why 
after  all,  the  Eomans  never  learnt  to  govern  them- 
/  selves  hke  the  Athenians — will  be  explained  in 
tanother  chapter. 

^  It  is  likely  enough,  as  Mommseii  suggests,  that  they  repre- 
sented the  claims  of  the  richer  plebeians  in  their  .efforts  to  throw 
open  the  consulship.  Sextius  was  himself  the  first  plebeian  consul 
in  the  year  366  B.C. 

2  Livy,  ix.  ch.  46,  x.  7.  For  the  action  of  Appius,  the 
censor  of  312  B.C.,  in  allowing  landless  citizens  to  be  enrolled  in 
any  tribe,  see  Appendix  to  the  first  volume  of  Mommsen's  Roman 
History,  p.  498  foil.  There  are  undoubtedly  some  signs  in  the 
story  both  of  a  tyrannic  aiid  of  a  democratic  tendency  to  deal  reck- 
lessly with  ancient  custom,  which  is  exceedingly  rare  at  Rome. 


r 


VII  THE  PEKIOD  OF  TKANSITION  AT  ROME  209 

.  Let  US  turn  for  a  moment,  before  we  leave  these 
earlier  stages  of  Koman  progress,  to  another  aspect 
of  Rome's  development  as  a  City-State,  which  has 
been  of  much  greater  interest  to  the  world  than 
even  the  growth  of  her  constitution.  The  genius  of 
the  Eoman  people  was  to  leave  one  valuable  legacy 
to  modern  civilisation ;  but  it  was  not  to  be  the 
memory  of  a  gifted  democracy,  like  the  Athenian, 
the  nursing  mother  of  poets,  orators,  sculptors,  and 
philosophers.  It  was  to  be  a  legacy  of  legal  ideas] 
1  aiid  practice ;  a  systematisation  of  the  rights  and 
duties  of  men  to  each  other  and  to  the  State,  and  of 
the  procedure  and  the  sanctions  necessary  to  secure 
them,  which  preserved  the  conceptions  of  legal  justice 
and  equity  throughout  all  the  chaos  and  confusion 
.  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Though  hard  to  realise,  and 
especially  so  for  Englishmen,  it  is  true  that  modern 
Europe  owes  to  the  Eomans  its  ancient  inherited 
sense  of  the  sacredness  of  a  free  man's  person  and 
property,  and  its  knowledge  of  the  simplest  and 
most  rational  methods  by  which  person  and  property 
may  be  secured  with  least  inconvenience  to  the 
whole  community.  The  nations  to  come  after 
Rome  were  saved  the  trouble  of  finding  out  all  this 
for  themselves  ;  and  it  may  be  doubted  whether  any 
of  them  had  the  requisite  genius.  We  in  England, 
for  example,  owe  the  peculiar  cumbrousness  of  our 
legal  system  to  the  absence  of  those  direct  Roman 
influences,  which,  on  the  continent,  have  simplified/ 
and  illuminated  the  native  legal  material. 

The  beginnings  of  Roman  law  are  to  be  found  in 
the  period  we  have  just  been  traversing ;  here  began 

P 


210  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

that  work  of  systematisation  which  was  to  form  a 
framework  for  the  loose  threads  of  our  ideas  of  legal 
justice  and  equity.  It  was  not,  indeed,  as  the  law 
of  the  City-State  of  Eome  that  this  systematisation 
was  to  dominate  the  world ;  but  it  was  in  the  City- 
State  that  its  roots  were  firmly  fixed.  The  jus 
civile,  or  law  of  the  cives  Romani,  was  first  formulated 
in  the  Twelve  Tables  drawn  up  by  decemvirs  in 
451  B.C.  and  the  following  year;  and  we  have  suf- 
ficient fragments  of  these  to  gather  something  both 
of  their  contents  and  their  method.  The  political 
advance  which  they  indicate  is  very  great.  We 
here  see  the  State  for  the  first  time  definitely  for- 
mulating the  rules  which  were  to  govern  the  rela- 
tions of  men, — of  privileged  and  unprivileged  alike, 
— in  regard  to  person  and  property ;  rules  hitherto 
traditional  in  family  or  gens,  or  administered  by 
the  magistrate  under  no  security  for  the  consistency 
of  his  action.  To  these  were  probably  added  new 
ones  adapted  from  the  codes  of  other  States,  and 
especially  from  that  of  Solon.  Custom,  thus  ati 
once  solidified  and  extended,  became  what  we  may| 
justly  call  law.  Law  is  a  natural  product  of  the  \ 
true  City-State,  which  demands  something  to  give  I 
security  to  the  life  and  dealings  of  all  its  members, 
—  something  which  neither  the  savage,  nor  the 
member  of  a  village  community,  nor  even  the 
gentilis  within  the  infant  State,  has  ever  yet  pos- 
sessed in  a  formal  and,  so  to  speak,  scientific 
shape  ;  and  this  product  of  State-life  the  Eomans  i 
were  now  developing  with  characteristic  exactness.  I 
We  see  also  that  the  rules  laid  down  in  these  Tables    ' 


VII  THE  PERIOD  OF  TRANSITION  AT  ROME  211 

are  characterised  by  a  peculiarly  rigid  formality, — 
that  is,  that  the  rigid  formality  of  pre-existing 
Eoman  practice  is  to  characterise  also  the  written 
law.  As  in  politics  the  Komans  thought  clearly 
and  logically,  and  expressed  their  thoughts  in  preg- 
nant technical  terms,  so  also  in  the  region  of  law. 

The  Tables  were  regarded  for  centuries  with 
profound  veneration,  and  throughout  Koman  history 
continued  to  form  the  nucleus  of  the  jus  civile  (law 

trMoi   the   City-State),  which   was   expanded  to    meet 

'       further  needs  almost  entirely  by  interpreting  and 
adjusting    them.      This    veneratioiL. J'ql , prescribed 

/y     rules  and  forms  is  perhaps  the  most  striking  feature 
.  fr'in_the„Eoinaii  character ;  it  passed  from  their  prac-  1 
M  j^ice  in  religious  ritual  into  their  practice  in  legal 

^•r    procedure,  and  gave  their  conception  of  law  a  dis- 
tinctness   and    certainty    never     realised    by    any 
other  people.      The  conservative  instinct   inherent  ' 
in  human  nature,  the  spirit  that  shrinks  from  losing 
one  jot  of  what  laborious  forefathers  have  stored  up 
with  infinite  pains — this  spirit  was  far  stronger  in 
the  Eoman  than  the  Greek,  and  it  is  one  great  secret 
of  the  extraordinary  solidity  of  the  legal  structure 
which   he   raised.      It   was  in   this   way  that    the 
Eomans   realised    "  the   good   life " ;    not,  like    the 
Greek,  by  rising  from  the  Koofirj  to  new  vigour  of 
intellect  in  poetry  and  art,  but  in  perceiving  with  a^ 
vision  so  direct  how  justice  could  best  be  secured  f 
between  citizen  and  citizen,  and  in  holding  to  the\ 
formulated  result  with  a  veneration  so  deep  and  so 
lasting.     They  never  entirely  ignored  anything  that 
they  had  once  discovered  and  prized. 


212>  THE  CITY-STATE  chap,  vii 

They  never,  indeed,  wholly  ignored  it ;  but 
they  had  also  the  true  legal  instinct  of  adapting 
their  forms  and  methods  to  new  circumstances,  or 
of  inventing  new  ones  while  they  still  retained  the 
old.  This  is  the  other  secret  of  the  stability  of 
their  legal  masonry.  The  jus  civile,  as  expressed  in 
the  Twelve  Tables,  and  even  as  expanded  by  their 
interpretation,  could  hardly  have  been  made  to  suit 
the  needs  of  the  empire  that  the  Eomans  were  to 
acquire  in  the  next  three  centuries  and  a  half ; 
even  to  have  made  the  attempt  would  have  violated 
their  legal  sensitiveness,  and  broken  the  traditions 
of  the  City-State.  But  they  were  not  at  a  loss ; 
they  had  now  in  the  Twelve  Tables  the  means  of 
rudimentary  legal  training,  and  they  had  constant 
practice  in  adjustment  and  interpretation  ;  and  these, 
together  with  their  clear  conception  of  magisterial 
power,  carried  them  in  due  time  safely  over  the 
difficulty.  We  shall  return  to  this  subject  at  the 
end  of  the  next  chapter ;  this  further  development 
of  the  Eoman  legal  instinct  was  the  work  of  the 
two  centuries  which  followed  the  equalisation  of  the 
orders,  and  the  result  of  the  wholly  new  conditions 
of  life  under  which  the  State  was  brought  by  ever- 
increasing  conquest  and  commerce. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    PERFECTION    OF    OLIGARCHY:    ROME 

By  the  year  300  B.C.  the  first  great  revolution  in 
Roman  history  is  completed.  The  men  of  the  multi- 
tude have  forced  their  way  into  the  sacred  ground 
which  patrician  exclusiveness  regarded  as  the  only 
true  State ;  at  point  after  point  the  defences  have 
been  broken  down,  and  the  crowd  mingles  freely 
and  on  equal  terms  with  the  aristocratic  garrison, 
sharing  with  them  all  privileges  and  all  duties 
which  the  State  bestows  or  demands. 

This  great  change,  it  should  be  noted,  had  been 
brought  about  chiefly  by  the  sheer  necessities  of  the 
government  ill  the  long  series  of  wars  in  which  Rome 
had  for  two  centuries  been  engaged.  It  was  no  more 
possible  for  an  army  of  patricians  and  their  clients 
to  survive  defeat,  or  reap  the  fruits  of  conquest, 
than  for  the  feudal  army  of  our  own  earliest  kings 
to  maintain  dominion  in  France  and  successfully 
attack  Wales  and  Scotland.  In  each  case  the  people 
came  to  be  recognised  as  the  essential  material  of 


214  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


the  State  and  its  armies,  and  in  each  case  this  led 
to  a  further  recognition  of  the  right  of  the  people 
to  have  its  voice  heard  in  matters  of  government. 
The  parallel  must  not  be  pushed  too  far ;  but 
this  at  least  is  clear,  that  had  Eoman  aristocracy 
and  English  kingship  been  able  to  live  and  rule 
in  peace,  studying  simply  the  comfort  of  their 
subjects  and  the  maintenance  of  existing  condi- 
tions of  society,  neither  would  so  soon  have  found 
itself  face  to  face  with  the  people,  and  obliged  to 
make  terms  with  them  or  renounce  a  career  of  con- 
quest. No  historian  should  allow  his  sense  of  the 
iniquity  or  the  fruitlessness  of  war  to  hinder  him 
from  paymg  due  attention  to  the  vital  struggles  of 
a  great  State  ;  for  it  is  in  war  that  the  real  fibre 
and  mettle  of  the  masses  of  population  are  seen 
at  their  best,  and  win  acknowledgment  most  effectu- 
ally. Less,  indeed,  than  economic  history,  but  still 
to  be  reckoned  along  with  it,  military  history  is  the.^ 
exponent  of  the  strength  and  vitality  of  a  nation  ;i 
constitutional  history,  after  all,  does  but  sum  up' 
the  changes  in  the  outward  form  of  government  to 
which  the  vicissitudes  of  war,  commerce,  and  agri- 
culture slowly  and  painfully  give  birth.  In  the 
present  chapter  we  shall  have  special  reason  to  bear 
this  in  mind ;  for  once  more  we  shall  note  the  con- 
stitutional results  of  a  long  period  of  war  and 
conquest — results  so  surprising  as  to  seem  almost 
paradoxical. 

If  we  take  our  stand  at  the  year   300   B.C.,  or 
better,  perhaps,  at  287  B.c.,^  and  read  carefully  the 

^  This  is  the  date  of  the  Lex  Hortensia,  the  third  of  the  three 


\ 


VIII  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  215 

last  two  or  three  books  of  Livy's  first  decade,  we 
shall  see  no  apparent  reason  why  the  Koman  con- 
stitution should  not  develop  in  the  direction  of 
democracy.  All  the  preliminary  steps  seem  to  have 
been  taken.  The  old  idea  of  the  prestige  of  patri- 
cian kinship  is  gone  past  recall,  and  every  department 
>,  of  government  is  open  to  plebeians.  If  any  class  is  \(/ 
/  under  disabilities,  it  is  the  patrician.^  The  plebeian 
assembly  is  becoming  the  chief  legislative  body,  and 
has  also  no  small  judicial  power.  The  executive 
seems  to  be  under  the  control  of  the  people,  for  a  form 
of  popular  trial  has  come  into  vogue,  by  which  the 
tribunes  frequently  impeach  an  ex  -  magistrate, 
examining  the  case  at  informal  meetings  in  the 
forum,  and  calling  for  a  final  condemnation  in  the 
assembly  of  centuries.  In  this  assembly,  which  also 
elects  the  chief  magistrates,  it  is  not  birth,  but  pro- 
gerty,  that  preponderates  in  the  voting ;  and  the 
Tacquisition  of  property,  landed  or  other,  has  long 
(been  as  much  open  to  plebeians  as  to  patricians. 
The  territory  of  the  State  has  been  immensely 
enlarged,  new  tribes  have  been  added,  new  com- 
munities received  into  citizenship ;  and  thus  the 
plebs  has  continually  been  strengthened  by  absorp- 
tion, while  the  patrician  body  must  have  as  steadily 
dwindled  in  number.  Patrician  families,  in  order 
to  survive,  strengthen  themselves  by  plebeian  mar- 
laws  which  changed  tlie  assembly  of  the  plebs  into  a  sovereign 
legislative  body. 

^  Kg.  one  consul  must  be  (Lex  Licinia,  367  B.C.),  both  consuls 
might  be,  plebeian  (law  of  342  B.C.).  So,  too  one  censor  must 
be  plebeian.  A  patrician,  too,  was  of  course  ineligible  for  the 
Tribunate  of  the  plebs. 


216  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


riages,  and  the  old  prejudice  against  such  alliances 
lives  on  only  among  a  few,  or  in  the  hearts  of 
patrician  matrons.^  v    ^ 

To   sum   up  :    the  old  social  and   political  ine- 
quality has  vanished ;  the  laws  press  equally  on  all, 
and  can   be    read   by    all;  the    people    is    clearly 
sovereign    in    the    legislative    assembly   of    tribes, 
presided  over   by  the   tribunes  of  the   plebs  ;   the 
executive   is  under  control,  each  magistrate  being 
liable  to  impeachment  and  popular  trial  after  his 
year  of  office.      This  is  not,  indeed,  democracy  in 
the  Athenian  sense,  for  the  people  does  not  itself 
do  the  actual  work   of  government,  though  its  de- 
cision is   paramount  whenever   it   is  called  on   to 
legislate,  to  give  sentence,  or  to  decide  on  peace  and 
war.     But  it  answers  fairly  well  to  Aristotle's  con-   ^^ 
ception  of  a  moderate  democracy,  and  rests,  in  fact, 
upon   much   the  same  social   conditions  which   he 
postulated  for  that  kind  of  constitution.     Aristotle  '^ 
points  out  that  the  characteristic  drawbacks  of  de-    j 
mocracy  are  not  likely  to  be  present  where  the  mass    | 
of   the    people   is   occupied  with  agriculture ;    for   : 
their  work  in  the  fields  will  keep  them  away  from 
the  city,  except  on  certain  occasions,  and  they  will 
thus  escape  becoming  too  political — too  much  inter-  / 
ested,  that  is,  in  matters  which  they  cannot  under-  / 
stand.     They  may  elect  their  magistrates,  and  ex-^ 

^  Read  Livy,  x.  23,  whicli  contains  a  characteristic  story  of 
this  age,  iUustrating  both  the  survival  of  patrician  prejudice  among 
the  ladies  of  high  family,  and  the  renunciation  of  it  by  the  more 
daring.  A  patrician  matron,  married  to  a  plebeian,  erects  an  altar 
to  Pudicitia  plebeia. 


VIII  THE  PERFECTIOX  OF  OLIGARCHY  217 

ercise  judgment  on  them  after  their  thne  of  office ; 
but  m  such  a  democracy  the  actual  government  will 
be  left  to  those  whose  wealth,  position,  virtue,  and 
renown,  make  them  competent  to  discharge  such 
duties.^  At  Eome,  at  the  period  we  have  reached, 
these  conditions  of  a  moderate  democracy  were  pre- 
sent; the  population  was  mainly  agricultural,  and 
came  into  the  city  only  to  vote  in  elections,  or  now 
and  then  to  decide  questions  legislative  and  judicial. 
The  government  was  left  to  those  who  were  camble 
^f  it ;  the  Eoman  people  itself  tilled  the  ground 
and  served   in  the  army,  but   did  not  govern  ;  it 

Jf^'was  sovereign,  but  it  did  not  rule.  Such  a  consti- 
tution was  admirably  suited  to  the  Koman  State 
and  character,  which  was  as  different  from  the 
Athenian  as  an  English  labourer  is  from  an  Irish- 
man. But  Eome  was  already  started  on  a  career 
which  was  to  bring  her  under  conditions  of  political 
life  unknown  in  Aristotle's  philosophy  ;  and  how 
would  her  constitution  fit  itself  to  these  ?  Was  it 
to  go  forward  in  what  might  seem  its  natural  course, 
towards  a  complete  democracy  like  the  Athenian  ? 
Or  was  the  character  of  this  Srjfio<;  yecopyiKo^  un- 
suited  for  the  detailed  work  of  self-government,  for 
^  the  organisation  of  conquests  already  won,  and  for 

I     the  conduct  of  long  struggles  againstjenemies  which 
were  at  this  very  time  beginning  to  threaten  ? 

Instead  of  pursuing  the  course  of  Eoman  history 
step  by  step,  let  us  at  once  look  forward  a  century 
and  a  half,  and,  taking  a  fresh  stand  abou.t  the  year 
150  B.C.,  let  us  take  note  of  the  constitution  as  we 

1  This  is  the  general  sense  of  Pol.  (1318  B). 


218  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

find  it  at  that  point.  There  was  living  then  in  Kome 
a  Greek  of  ability,  who  had  ample  means  of  observing 
the  working  of  the  Eoman  constitution,  and  whose 
record  of  it  has  most  fortunately  come  down  to  us.-^ 
Polybius'  account  is  not,  indeed,  to  be  accepted 
without  reserve ;  it  was  coloured  by  his  unbounded 
admiration  for  Rome  and  her  great  deeds,  as  well  as 
by  the  peculiar  philosophical  bent  of  his  own  mind, 
which  was  apt  to  deal  with  political  institutions  in 
the  abstract,  without  taking  sufficient  account  of  the 
social  and  economical  forces  which  are  continually 
acting  upon  them.  But  we  are  not  without  the 
means  of  criticising  and  verifying  Polybius.  Livy's 
liistory,  based,  in  these  last  books  which  have  sur- 
vived from  his  vast  undertaking,  on  records  for  the 
most  part  of  undoubted  value,  brings  us  down  to 
within  a  few  years  of  150  B.C.  Looking  on,  too,  we 
have  materials  for  a  consistent  view  of  the  consti- 
tution from  the  tribunate  of  Tiberius  Gracchus  in 
133  B.C.,  in  Appian's  Civil  Wars,  in  Plutarch's  Lives 
of  the  G^'oycchi,  and  in  many  other  writers  of  whom 
Cicero  is  the  most  copious.  Livy  gives  us  a  picture 
of  a  constitution  in  the  highest  state  of  effi- 
ciency, performing  its  work  admirably,  and  almost 
without  a  hitch  ;  Appian  and  the  later  writers  show 
us  this  same  constitution  rapidly  getting  out  of  gear, 
and  sustaining  formidable  attacks  with  difficulty ; 
and  between  the  two  we  have  Polybius,  studying  it 
calmly  as  a  foreigner,  admiring  its  perfect  balance 

^  Polybius,  book  vi.  10  foil.  It  is  probable  that  these  chapters 
were  written  about  140  B.C.  ;  certainly  before  the  Tribunate  of 
Tiberius  Gracchus. 


VIII  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  219 

of  parts,  and  apparently  quite  unconscious  either  of 
weakness  inherent  in  it,  or  danger  about  to  beset  it. 
Our  materials  are  therefore  sufficient ;  we  can  make 
no  serious  mistake  about  this  constitution. 

And  what  then  was  it  ?     The  answer  may  well 
be  startling  and  even  paradoxical  to  those  ^ho  have 
not  yet  studied  the  Eoman  character,  or  learnt  to 
recognise  the  sternly  tenacious  conservatism  of  the     . 
Eoman  political  mind.     Though  the  conditions  of 
the    Eoman    City  -  State    have    entirely    changed, 
though  she  has  already  become  an  imperial  State, 
and  though  her  sway  now  extends  from  Macedonia  to 
Spain,  the  constitution  remains  in  outward  form  pre- 
cisely what  it  was  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  earlier.  ; 
It  is  still  democratic — not  indeed  in  the  Athenian 
sense,  but  in  a  sense  in  which  we  often  use  the  word 
now.     The  people  are  sovereign  in  legislation,  and         . 
in  the  most  important  judicial  cases ;  they  decide    ^^^^^^ 
on    peace    and   war;  they  elect    their   magistrates 
yearly.     They    are   sovereign    whenever    they    are 
called  on  to  act,  and  they  must  of  necessity  be 
called  on  frequently.     "  One  might  reasonably  con- 
clude," says  Polybius,  describing  the  position  of  the 
Demos  at  Eome,  "  that  it  has  the  greatest  share  of 
power,  and   that  the   constitution  is  of   the   most 
pronounced  democratic  type." 

But  this  constitution,  as  it  was  actually  worked  l^ 
in  practice,  was  no  more  a  democracy  than  the  British     . 
constitution  is  a  monarchy.     It  was  not  even  what 
Polybius  pronounced  it  to  be,  after  surveying  its 
several  parts, — a  constitution  in  which  the  elements 
of  monarchy,  aristocracy,  and  democracy  were  all 


220  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

to  be  found,  acting  and  reacting  on  each  other  in  a 
perfectly  happy  and  harmonious  combination.  Nor 
again  was  it,  as  Cicero,  looking  back  on  it  a  century 
later  through  the  rosy  medium  of  his  own  imagination, 
vainly  pictured  it  to  Eoman  jurymen,  a  consti- 
tution iij  which  the  duties  and  honours  of  govern- 
ment were  open  to  every  citizen  whose  capability 
and  industry  could  give  him  a  claim  to  them.^  As 
j^  we  see  it  in  Livy's  later  books,  and  as  we  see  it  put 
to  the  test  in  the  history  of  its  fall,  it  was  neither 
a  democracy,  nor  a  mixed  constitution,  nor  a 
government  of  ther  best  men  in  the  State,  but  an 
oligarchy — the  most  compact  and  powerful  oligarchy 
that  the  world  has  ever  yet  seen.  As  Athens 
realised  the  most  perfect  form  of  democracy  of  which 
the  City-State  was  capable,  so  did  Eome  realise  the 
most  perfect  form  of  oligarchy. 

The  rest  of  this  chapter  must  be  occupied  (1) 
with  showing  that  this  was  the  true  character  of  the 
constitution  in  its  actual  practice,  whatever  may 
have  been  its  apparent  or  legal  form,  and  (2)  with 
/  explaining  how  this  strange  result  had  come  about. 
The  constitution  of  the  Roman  republic  is  indeed 
an  exceedingly  difticult  one  to  handle,  more  espe- 
cially in  a  limited  space.  But  it  amply  repays 
the  careful  student,  for  it  brinojs  him  face  to  face 
with  one  of  the  most  curious  and  puzzling  problems 
of  political  science.      How  can  a  constitution  be  one 

•^  Cicero,  pro  Sestio,  cli.  65:  "  Ita  magistratus  aminos  crea- 
verunt,  iit  consilium  senatus  reipublicse  prseponereut  senipiternum, 
deligerentur  autem  in  id  consilium  ab  universo  populo,  aditusque 
in  ilium  summii'm  ordinem  civium  industrire  ac  virtuti  pateret." 


VIII  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  221 

thing  in  theory  and  another  in  fact  ?    How  is   it  \    . 
possible  to  retain  the  form  of  a  democracy  while  the  // 
government  is   actually  in  the  hands  of  a  few  or    >C- 
of  one  ?     Even  such  an  elementary  account  of  the 
Eoman  system  of  government  as  I  can  find  space  for 
in   the  following  pages  may  possibly  throw  some 
light  on  these  questions. 

And  first  let  us  see  what  the   Roman  consti- 
tution was  in  its  working  form  at  any  year  in  the       ' 
period    covered    by   the   last   books  of  Livy — say 
between    200    and    167    B.C.       The   first   point   to*^ 
notice  is  that  the  essential  mark  of  an  oligarchy  is 
to  be  found  in  the  executive ;  the  great  magistracies 
are  in  the  hands  of  a  comparatively  small  number^ 
of  families.     We   see,  in  fact,  a  reversion  to  the 
character  of  the  earlier  aristocratic   period,  as   in 
organic  nature  we  often   meet  with   a   "throwing 
back"   to   the   features   of  a   primitive   form.      As 
formerly  the  consulship  could  be  held  only  by  the 
limited  number  of  old  patrician  families,  so  now,  if 
we  look  through  the  consular  fasti^  for  the  period 
300-150  B.C.,  we  shall  find  the  same  names  con- 
stantly   recurring.       There     are    now,    of    course, 
plebeians  also  in  the  list ;  but  the  plebeian  names 
also  appear  again  and  again,  and  new  names  are 
of  comparatively  rare  occurrence.      It  is  plain  that    ^ 
these  families,  patrician  and   plebeian   alike,  have 
acquired   a   kind   of  hereditary  right   to   hold  the 
consulship.     The  people,  it  is  true,  can  elect  exactly 
whom  they  please ;    but   they  evidently  prefer   to 

^  Corpus  Inscr.  LaU  vol.  i.  483  foil.     Cf.  also  the  short  table  in 
the  second  volume  of  Mommsen's  History,  ch.  xi.  p.  325,  note. 


222  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

entrust  those  persons  with  power  whose  ancestors 
have  already  held  it.     We  see  here,  in  fact,  a  new 
hereditary  nobility — not    a    nobility    of   patrician 
descent,     though     the     spirit     of    patricianism     is 
evidently   not   extinct,   but    a   nobility  resting   its 
V  claims    chiefly  on    service    done   to  the  State.      The 
patrician  Cornelii,  Yalerii,  Claudii,  and  others,  and 
the  plebeian   Licinii,   Fulvii,   or   Junii,   have   done 
good  service  to  the  State  in  former  generations,  and 
it  may  be  expected  that  they  will  continue  to  do 
it ;  for  the  traditions  of  wisdom  and  valour  are  in 
these  families,  as  the  images  of  their  ancestors  are 
in   their   halls.^      The   old   instinct  of  respect  for  ^ 
noble   descent   has   transferred   itself   to   this   new 
nobility ;  the  Eoman    people,   always    true    to    its 
veneration  for  a  certain  type  of  civic  excellence,  in 
which    marked    individuality    was    not    prominent, 
believed  that  this  type  could  best  be  secured  in  its 
leaders  by  seeking  it   where  it  had   already  been 
found.     And  so  it  came  about  that  a  "  new  man," 
one  whose  family  had  never  yet  been  prominent  in 
public  life,  rarely  found  his  way  to  high  office.      If 
he  did  so,  it  was  only  as  the  result  of  pre-eminent 
military  services,  or  by  the  aid  of  some  influential 
noble  in  persuading  the  people  of  the  validity  of  his 
claim.     At  a  later  date  the  art  of  oratory  came  also 
to  be  reckoned  as  one  of  th^  aids  of  a  novus  liomo : 

^  The  jus  imagmum,  or  right  to  keep  in  the  house  the  images 
of  ancestors  who  had  held  a  curule  office,  and  to  have  them  carried 
in  funeral  processions,  is  a  most  characteristic  feature  of  this 
nobility.  Read  Polybius,  vi.  53;  Cic.  ad,Fam.\x.  21  ;  Momm- 
sen,  Staatsrecht.  i.  426  foil. 


VIII  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  223 

for  in  defending  great  men  who  were  attacked  in 
the  law-courts,  the  young  orator  could  not  fail  to 
improve  his  own  chance  of  rising  to  greatness. 

To  illustrate  the  paramount  social  influence  of 
this  new  nobility,  w^hich  thus  secured  for  it  as  a 
class  the  almost  exclusive  possession  of  the  execu- 
tive in  the  State,  we  need  only  glance  at  the 
circumstances  of  the  three  most  famous  "  new  men" 
who  reached  the  consulship  between  200  and  60 
B.C.  The  first  of  these  was  M.  Porcius  Cato  (Cato 
the  elder),  consul  195,  a  farmer  at  Tusculum,  who 
entered  public  life  through  the  influence  of  a  friend 
and  neighbour  belonging  to  the  renowned  family  of 
the  Valerii  Flacci.-^  The  second  was  Gains  Marius, 
of  an  obscure  family  of  Arpinum.  This  man,  who 
reached  the  consulship  in  1 0  5  comparatively  late  in 
life,  was  first  noticed  by  the  younger  Scipio  in  the 
Numantian  war  as  a  young  officer  of  ability,  and 
obtained  the  tribunate  of  the  plebs  in  119  B.C. 
with  the  help  of  L.  Caecilius  Metellus,  with  whose 
family  the  Marii  had  long  been  in  some  way  con- 
nected as  adherents.^  The  third,  M.  TuUius  Cicero, 
also  a  native  of  Arpinum,  owed  his  rise  chiefly  to 
his  own  ability  as  a  pleader,  but  also  in  no  small 
measure  to  the  notice  taken  of  his  father  and  him- 
self by  men  of  family  and  influence  in  the  time  of 
his  boyhood.^     And  indeed  when  Cicero  became  a 

^  Plutarch,  Cato  major  3.  C.  Lfelius,  cos.  190,  probably  owed 
his  success  to  his  friend  Scipio  Africanus :  Mommseii,  Hist. 
ii.  325. 

2  Plutarch,  Marius,  3  and  4. 

"'  Cic.  De  Oratore,  ii.  1. 


224  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

candidate  for  the  consulship,  at  a  time  when  the 
power  of  the  nobility  had  long  been  waning,  he  felt 
the  disadvantage  of  his  novitas  most  keenly.  Quintus 
Cicero,  in  the  short  "  Handbook  of  Electioneering  " 
which  he  drew  up  for  his  brother's  use,  starts  with 
an  emphatic  warning  on  this  point — "Every  day, 
when  you  go  down  to  the  Forum  to  canvass,  say  to 
yourself  these  words :  I  am  a  new  man ;  I  am  a 
candidate  for  the  consulship ;  and  this  is  Eome."  ^ 
And  though  Cicero  was  elected,  the  unwillingness 
of  the  nobility  to  act  with  this  newcomer  as  with 
one  of  themselves  had  a  permanent  and  disastrous 
influence  on  his  declining  years. 

^  The  overwhelming  social  prestige  of  the  families 

already  ennobled  by  State  service,  giving  them  a 
strong  moral  claim  to  retain  within  their  own  circle 
the  honours  and  duties  of  executive  government,  is 
the  first  fact  which  must  be  grasped  if  we  are  to 
^understand   the  constitution  of  this   period.      But 

^  there  is  another  fact  still  more  important  and  less 
easy  to  explain.      If  we  turn  again  to  our  authori- 
ties— if,  for  example,  we  open  the  third,  fourth,  or 
fifth  decades  of  Livy— we  shall  very  soon  find  that  \ 
:  it  is  not  with  the  executive  magistracy  that  the  real  I 
conduct  of  the   State   resides.       The   consul   is   in 
office  for  a  year  only,  and  during  that  year  he  is 
constantly   away   from   Eome   in   command   of   an 
army.      He  may  initiate  a  policy,  but   he  cannot! 
secure  its  permanence ;  he  is  liable  to  be  hindered " 
by  the  voice  of  his  colleague,  or  by  the  veto  of  the 
tribune  of  the  plebs.      He  is  a  functionary  without 

^  Quintus  Cicero,  Commentariolum  petitionis,  cli.  1. 


yiii  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  225 

whom  the  State  cannot  be  governed ;  no  kind  of 
public  business  can  be  transacted  without  him,  or 
without  the  magistrates  below  him  in  rank  ;  yet  it  is 
not  his  hand  that  is  on  the  helm.  I^othing  can  be 
done  without  his  initiation,  yet  he  is  not  the  guiding 
spirit  of  the  State.  It  is  the  great  Council  over 
which  he  presides,  and  whose  advice  an  almost 
unbroken  tradition  enjoins  him  not  only  to  ask,  but 
to  take,  in  whose  hands  are  really  the  destinies  of  ty 
Eome,  her  empire,  and  the  world.^  What,  then,  was 
this  Council  ?  in  what  manner  selected,  and  entrusted 
with  what  duties  ?  Do  we  find  here,  as  in  the 
executive,  the  characteristic  marks  of  an  oligarchy  ? 

Let  us  see  in  the  first  place  how  the  Senate  was  *^ 
filled  up,  and  who  were  the  persons  who  sat  in  it.  j 
Every  five  years  the  list  of  its  members,  three  ^ 
hundred  in  number,  was  revised ;  and  the  revision, 
once  the  duty  of  the  consul,  as  of  the  king  before 
him,  was  now  entrusted  to  two  censors.  These 
censors  must  have  previously  held  the  consulship ; 
they  were  therefore  men  of  experience,  advanced  in 
life,  and  members  of  the  hereditary  nobility.^  The 
principles  on  which  they  were  to  select  the  senators 
were  clearly  understood,  and  even  defined  by  statute 

^  The  following  chapters  of  Livy  may  be  selected  as  examples  to 
illustrate  the  statements  in  the  text : — xxxi.  6  ;  xxxiv.  55  and  56  ; 
XXXV.  20  (where  the  consul  is  forbidden  to  leave  the  city) ;  xxxvi. 
40  (where  a  tribunician  veto  is  overcome  by  the  Senate  ;  cf.,  how- 
ever, xxxiii.  25)  ;  xlv.  21.  An  excellent  example  of  senatorial 
authority  in  combination  with  tact  will  be  found  in  xxxix.  39. 

^  Cato  the  elder  is  again  a  signal  exception  :  read  Livy,  xxxix. 
40,  and  Plutarch,  Cato  16.  He  was  in  actual  antagonism  to  the 
nobilitas ;  but  he  had  still  the  support  of  Valerius  Flaccus,  who 
was  elected  as  his  colleague. 

Q 


226  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


^  — they  were  to  choose,  up  to  the  number  of  three 
hundred  or  thereabout,  "every  most  excellent 
citizen    of   any    rank"  {optimum  quemque  ex  omni 

r  ordine)}  But  by  what  standard  were  they  to 
measure  this  excellence  ?  Whatever  was  the 
precise  intention  of  the  words  just  quoted,— if 
indeed  they  were  the  actual  words  of  the  statute, — 
there  is  no  doubt  at  all  as  to  the  way  in  which  the 
censors  interpreted  them.  In  a  community  like 
the  Eoman,  where  the  virtues  of  the  private 
man  could  not  expect  to  attract  notice,  they  had 
practically  no  choice.  The  only  available  measure 
^of  excellence  was  the  performance  of  public  duty. 
They  first  of  all  put  upon  the  roll  all  who  had  in 
any  year  held  a  curul6  office,  i.e.  who  had  been 
consul,  praetor,  or  curule  ?edile.  All  of  these  had 
already  sat  in  the  Senate  ever  since  their  year  of 
office,  and  were  well  acquainted  with  senatorial 
procedure  and  the  manner  of  conducting  business ; 
those  who  had  held  office  since  the  last  revision 
now  became  for  the  first  time  full  senators,  though 
they  had  been  allowed  hitherto  to  retain  the  seats 
they  had  acquired  as  magistrates.  IS'ext  the 
censors  added  all  who  had  been  non-curule  magis- 
trates, i.e.  all  ex-sediles  of  the  plebs,  ex-tribunes  of 

^  the  plebs,  and  ex-qu?estors.  It  has  been  calculated 
that,    without    going    further,    the    list    of    three 

^  The  only  information  we  have  about  this  important  law  is  in 
Festus'  abridgment  of  Verrius  Flaccus,  the  antiquary  of  the 
Augustan  age  :  ed.  Miiller,  p.  246,  s.  v.  prceteriti  senatores.  A  full 
discussion  of  it  in  Willems'  Senaf,  i.  153  foil.  Cf.  Mommsen, 
Staatsrecht,  ii.  413  ;  iii.  873. 


VIII  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  227 

hundred  might  in  some  years  have  been  thus  com- 
pleted.^ But  if  any  more  names  were  needed,  as 
might  happen  after  severe  loss  in  war,  or  if  the 
censors,  as  they  were  entitled  to  do,  struck  off  any 
names  from  the  list  drawn  up  by  their  predecessors, 
the  persons  nominated  in  addition  would  be  such  as 
had  specially  distinguished  themselves  in  the  field, 
or  had  in  some  way  gained  themselves  public  credit; 
and  these  were  no  doubt  usually  the  sons  or  rela- 
tions of  men  who  were  or  had  been  senators.^ 

Thus  the  Senate  was  at  this  time  almost  entirely 
made  up  of  men  who  had  held  office  and  done  the 
State  good  service ;  and  no  small  proportion  of 
these  had  actually  reached  the  consulship,  or  at 
least  the  prsetorship.  They  had  therefore  been 
several  times  elected  to  office  by  the  votes  of  the 
people,  and  it  may  indeed  be  said,  with  every 
appearance  of  truth,  that  the  Senate  represented 
the  popular  choice.  But  we  have  already  seen 
that  the '  people  almost  invariably  chose  for  these 
higher  magistracies  members  of  the  families  of  old 
repute  and  standing;  and  thus,  though  the  Senate 
was  in  a  sense  representative  of  the  popular  will, 
it  is   also  true  that  it  was  fed  hy  the  hereditary  , 


And  we   must  also   notice   that  in   the  actual 

^  It  will  be  worth  the  reader's  while  to  examine  at  this  point 
the  hypothetical  list  of  the  Senate  as  revised  by  the  censors  of 
179  B.C.,  drawn  up  at  gi-eat  pains  by  Willems  {S6nat,  i.  308  foil.). 

-  Read  the  account,  in  Livy  xxiii.  23,  of  the  lectio  senatus  of 
216  B.C.,  after  the  terrible  losses  at  Cann?e.  It  ends  thus  :  "  Turn 
-ex  iis  qui  magistratus  non  cepissent,  qui  spolia  ex  hoste  fixa  domi 
haberent,  aut  civicam  coronam  accepissent." 


228  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

conduct  of  business  in  the  Senate  this  nobility  had 
everything  their  own  way.  Among  the  ex-tribunes 
and  ex-qusestors  there  might  be  many  men  of  new 
families  outside  of  the  hereditary  nobility,  but  these 
men  would  not  easily  make  themselves  heard. 
When  a  consul  or  praetor  summoned  the  Senate 
to  seek  its  advice,  he  began  by  placing  before  it  the 
question  to  be  decided,  and  then  proceeded  to  ask  the 
opinions,  in  a  regular  order,  of  the  leading  senators. 
He  began  with  the  consuls- elect,  and  went  on  to 
the  consulares  (ex-consuls).  Long  before  he  reached 
any  lower  rank  it  is  probable  that  in  the  age  of 
which  we  are  speaking  the  debate  had  usually  ter- 
minated. The  tribunes,  as  magistrates  armed  with 
a  veto,  would  occasionally  interfere ;  but  at  this 
time  even  they  were  rarely  disloyal  to  the  prestige 
of  the  nobility.^ 

This  great  council,  then,  was  not  only  composed 
to  a  large  extent  of  members  of  the  hereditary 
nobility,  but  these,  as  men  who  had  seen  the  longest 
service,  and  best  understood  the  conduct  of  business, 
were  by  far  the  most  influential  men  who  sat  in  it, 
and  could  easily  influence  the  votes  of  any  who 
were  outside  the  pale.  It  is  a  true  oligarchical 
council ;  not,  like  the  Athenian  Boule,  merely  a 
large  committee  of  the  popular  assembly.  Almost 
every  member  of  it  has  submitted  himself  once,  or 
oftener,  to  the  vote  of  the  people  in  their  elective 

1  The  Senate  was  in  this  period,  as  a  rule,  on  the  best  of  terms 
Avith  the  Tribunate  ;  read  Livy,  xxxvi.  40,  xxxviii.  47,  where  the 
latter  is  influenced  by  the  Senate  ;  and  xxxiii.  25,  and  xlii.  21, 
where  the  tribunes  urge  the  Senate  to  a  certain  line  of  action. 


Till  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  229 

assembly ;  but  as  a  consequence  of  the  popular 
veneration  for  families  of  tried  worth,  the  really 
powerful  senators  almost  always  belong  to  a  limited 
social  oligarchy.  In  the  Senate  is  gathered  all  the  ^ 
wisdom  and  experience  of  the  State ;  but  this 
wisdom  and  experience  is  not  to  be  looked  for 
outside  of  a  certain  boundary  line  of  society.  This 
is  oligarchy,  and  oligarchical  machinery,  of  the  most 
admirable  and  effective  kind.  The  executive  and 
its  advising  council  form  together  a  compact  and 
narrow  body  of  identical  interest ;  a  government  of 
the  capable  minority  such  as  no  other  constitution  ^ 
has  ever  developed.  The  English  Whig  oligarchy 
of  the  eighteenth  century  was  powerful  enough,  but 
it  was  far  from  being  as  compact,  or  as  capable,  as 
the  Eoman  senatorial  oligarchy.  Perhaps  the  only 
modern  State  to  which  we  can  look  for  a  parallel 
is  mediaeval  Venice,  whose  Grand  Council,  adminis- 
tering a  great  empire,  reminds  us  in  some  ways  of 
the  Senate  in  its  best  days.^ 

Let  us  now  turn  to  consider  how  the  oligarchy, 
thus  constituted  on  the  basis  of  a  hereditary  claim 
to  govern,  actually  secured  and  exercised  power  in^^ 
a  State  legally  and  theoretically  democratic.  Fori^ 
it  must  be  clearly  understood  that  the  Senate,  the 
essential  organ  of  the  oligarchic  families,  had  in 
constitutional  law  no  independent  power  of  its  own  ; 
it  was  merely  the  advising  council  of  the  king,  and 
afterwards  of  the  consul.      It  could  not  meet  unless 

^  Read  the  valuable  comparison  of  the  Venetian  Grand  Council 
and  the  Roman  Senate  in  the  late  Professor  Freeman's  Historical 
Essays,  vol.  iv.  pp.  410  foil. 


230  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

summoned  by  a  magistrate ;  it  could  not  command 
the  magistrate  to  take  any  course  of  action.  Nor 
could  it  necessarily  control  the  assemblies  of  the 
people ;  for  the  magistrate,  when  proposing  a  law, 
was  not  legally  bound  to  consult  the  Senate  on  the 
subject.  Whoever  studies  even  cursorily  the  con- 
stitution of  the  Eoman  Eepublic  will  soon  find  that 
the  magistrate  had  the  sole  initiative,  and  that  the 
ultimate  sovereign  power  lay  with  the  people.  How 
then  was  it  possible  that  the  Senate  should  become 
the  instrument  of  the  dominating  powey  of  a  close 
^  oligarchy  ? 

The  explanation  of  this  strange  phenomenon  is 
to  be  found  (1)  in  the  moral  force  exercised  by  an 
assembly  of  ex-magistrates  ;  (2)  in  the  nature  of  the 
business  which  the  Eoman  government  had  to 
transact  as  the  State  increased  in  power  and 
importance ;  (3)  in  the  character^  lacking  culture 
and  initiative,  of  the  Eoman  people  itself.  A  few 
^  remarks  on  each  of  these  points  must  suffice  in  this 
chapter ;  but  to  understand  the  problem  thoroughly 
an  accurate  knowledge  is  needed  not  only  of  the 
constitution,  but  of  the  economy,  the  literature,  and 
the  external  history  of  the  Eepublic. 

1.  The  magistrate,  as  we  have  seen  (p.  108), 
was  under  no  legal  obligation  to  obey  the  decrees  of 
the  Senate.  But  he  was  morally  bound  to  consult 
it ;  for  it  was  a  principle  of  the  constitution  from  the 
earliest  times  to  the  latest, — one  of  the  elcoOoTa 
voTjixara  of  the  Eoman  mind, — that  one  in  authority 
should  fortify  himself  by  the  advice  of  a  consilium.^ 
^  See  above,  p.  77. 


VIII  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  231 

And  his  own  natural  instinct  must  have  prompted  him 
not  only  to  seek  this  advice,  but  to  follow  it  when 
given ;  for  the  Koman,  habitually  conservative,  was 
only  too  apt  to  guide  himself  by  the  custom  of  his 
ancestors  {mos  major2im),Sind  to  avoid  untrodden  paths. 

Now  consider  how  this  instinct  of  his  would  be 
strengthened  by  the  overwhelming  prestige  of  such 
a  council  as  the  Senate.  The  consul  had  before  iX 
him  in  the  Senate  every  living  man  who  had  already 
held  the  consulship,  as  well  as  all  who  had  learnt 
experience  in  any  department  of  public  administra- 
tion. He  was  but  one  among  many  who  were  older 
and  more  experienced  than  himself;  the  duties  he 
was  now  for  the  first  time  learning  they  had  already  *• 
discharged  with  credit.  If  his  council  of  war 
consisted  largely  of  ex-commanders-in-chief,  what 
general  would  be  able  to  resist  the  force  of  their 
authority  ?  The  united  voice  of  such  a  body  as  the 
Senate,  in  which  was  gathered  all  the  wisdom  and 
experience  of  the  State,  was  not  to  be  defied  or  even 
neglected  by  men  of  the  steady  and  loyal  type 
which  the  Eoman  people  preferred  at  this  period  to 
entrust  with  magisterial  power. 

Thus  it  is  not  hard  to  see  how  the  consul, 
though  always  revered  as  the  impersonation  of  the 
majesty  of  the  Eoman  State,  and  though  he  sum- 
moned the  Senate,  presided  over  it,  and  technically 
initiated  all  its  business,  should  have  gradually 
slipped  into  the  position  of  the  servant  of  such  a 
council  of  sages.  Even  the  tribunes,  young  men 
often  and  inexperienced,  came  to  feel  the  same  irre- 
sistible authority,  and  hardly  ever  ventured  in  this 


232  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

period  to  dispense  with  the  Senate's  sanction  for 
their  legislative  designs.  And  though  the  process 
was  a  gradual  one — for  the  Senate's  prestige  had 
itself  grown  with  the  growing  State, — the  impression 
made  on  the  Eoman  mind  was  never  wholly  ob- 
literated. Cicero  expresses  it  exactly  when,  in  the 
outburst  of  republican  enthusiasm  which  has  already 
been  quoted,  he  speaks  of  the  magistrates  as  "  the 
agents  of  the  weighty  designs  of  the  Senate."  He 
does  not  describe  them  seeking  its  advice,  as  men 
who  might  follow  if  or  not  as  they  pleased :  that 
was  indeed  the  strictly  legal  view  of  their  powers, 
on  which,  in  Cicero's  own  time,  and  to  his  infinite 
disgust,  his  political  enemies  occasionally  acted. 
The  view  he  so  eloquently  enforces  represented  the 
practice  of  the  constitution  in  its  best  days,  when 
the  Senate's  commanding  wisdom  was  still  un- 
questioned ;  the  magistrate  must  obey  the  great 
council  of  ex-magistrates,  and  be  the  loyal  agent  of 
its  most  weighty  designs. 

2.  This  startling  change  in  the  working  of  the 
constitution  might,  however,  have  never  taken  place, 
if  Eome  had  enjoyed  the  comparatively  untroubled 
youth  of  most  of  the  City-States  of  antiquity.  But 
Rome,  as  Virgil  sang  of  her,  and  as  Dante  wrote  of 
her  long  afterwards  from  a  very  different  point  of 
view,^  seemed  destined  from  her  infancy  to  conquer 
and  to  rule.  Even  by  the  time  when  the  political 
equalisation  of  patricians  and  plebeians  was  com- 
plete, she  had  won  a  dominion  in  Italy  such  as  had 

^  In  the  Be,  MoiiarcJiia,  Bk.  ii.  ;  cf.  Paradiso,  canto  vi.  ;  Virgil, 
uEn.  vi.  756  foil. 


VIII  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  233 

been  achieved  by  no  Greek  city — neither  by  Athens 
nor  Sparta.  From  every  disaster,  like  England  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  she  rose  with  renewed 
strength  to  fresh  expansion.  The  Latins  of  the 
Campagna  lost  their  ancient  equality  with  her,  and 
had  to  become  Eoman  citizens,  for  the  most  part  on 
an  inferior  scale  of  privilege.  The  dwellers  on  the 
hills  round  about  Latium  had  already  submitted  to 
her ;  and  by  the  year  290  B.C.  the  Sabine  popula- 
tions of  central  Italy,  the  hardiest  of  all  Italians, 
had  ceased  to  struggle  against  the  inevitable.  The 
Etruscans  to  the  north  were  less  stubborn,  and 
Eome  already  dominated  the  peninsula.  In  281 
B.C.  Pyrrhus  of  Epirus  seemed  likely  for  a  time  to 
put  an  end  to  her  career ;  but  Eome  at  last  forced 
him  to  depart,  and  all  Italy  acknowledged  her  as 
mistress.  Next  came  the  collision  with  Carthage, 
and  the  long  struggle  in  Sicily  ending  in  the  acquisi- 
tion of  new  provinces  of  government  beyond  the 
sea ;  and  then  more  conquest  to  the  north,  among 
the  Gauls  of  the  great  plain  of  the  Po.  Again  for 
fourteen  years  she  struggled  for  life  with  Carthage, 
when  Hannibal  brought  his  army  to  her  very  gates, 
and  stripped  her  for  the  time  of  almost  all  the 
dominion  she  had  won.  But  even  such  a  war  as 
this  only  ended  in  a  fresh  series  of  conquests ; 
Carthage  made  humiliating  terms,  and  lost  all  her 
dominion  in  Spain.  Hannibal,  intriguing  as  a  last 
resource  with  the  Macedonian  king,  turned  Eome's 
attention  eastwards,  and  in  the  course  of  another 
half-century  both  Macedonia  and  Greece  were  under 
the  rule  of  Eoman  magistrates. 


234  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


We  need  not  now  pursue  this  wonderful  story 
further,  for  it  is  not  with  the  conquests  themselves 
that  we  are  concerned,  but  with  their  reaction  on 
the  constitution.  In  reading  the  history  of  conquer- 
ing States,  we  are  apt  to  dwell  too  little  on  the 
immense  amount  of  energy  and  brain-power  which 
such  States  have  to  expend.  The  levying  and 
equipment  of  armies,  the  building  of  vast  fleets,  the 
adequate  organisation  of  finance,  the  choice  and 
control  of  commanders,  and  above  all,  the  settle- 
ment of  conquered  territories  and  the  vigilance 
needed  to  secure  their  obedience — all  these  demand 
such  a  strenuous  industry  in  the  conquerors  as  in 
these  days  we  can  hardly  realise.  To  us  Englishmen, 
with  our  peaceful  and  commercial  instincts,  a  single 
little  war  seems  a  matter  of  difficulty  and  moment ; 
the  defeat  of  a  single  battalion  seems  a  serious 
disaster.  We  have  to  go  back  to  the  days  of  Pitt 
to  understand  how  great  a  strain  on  the  energies 
and  resources  of  a  nation  is  a  fierce  and  widespread 
war  which  lasts  for  many  years  with  varying  result. 
/But  he  who  w^ould  really  grasp  the  meaning  of  the 
senatorial  government  at  Kome  must  try  and  realise 
the  business  which  that  government  had  to  get 
through.  It  was  business  which  caUed  for  experi- 
ence and  knowledge,  as  well  as  industry ;  it  could 
not  be  done  by  amateurs.  It  needed  the  cool-  ' 
headedness  of  men  of  age  and  standing ;  the  steady 
perseverance  of  men  who  had  been  trained  in  busi- 
ness from  their  youth ;  the  reasonableness  in  com- 
mand of  men  accustomed  to  obey.  It  called  for 
unsparing    attention    to     detail,    and    that    exact 


VIII  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  235 

adaptation  of  means  to  ends  to  which  no  novice  in 
statesmanship  can  readily  attain.  And  lastly,  this 
task  of  conquest  and  organisation  could  not  be  ful- 
filled without  sobriety  in  debate,  unity  in  action, 
and  that  good  sense  and  self-restraint  which  alone  , 
can  make  a  State  orderly,  and  allow  it  to  put  forth 
its  full  strength  whenever  it  strikes  a  blow. 

All  these  rare  gifts  were  to  be  found  in  the 
Eoman  Senate  of  this  period ;  not  high  intellectual 
gifts,  but  perseverance,  industry,  honesty,  orderli- 
ness, and  good  sense.  Probably  no  body  of  men 
has  ever  sat  together  for  consultation  so  richly 
endowed  with  these  unpretentious  qualities ;  and 
the  reason  lay  not  only  in  the  Eoman  character  (of 
which  I  have  a  word  to  say  directly),  but  in  the 
traditions  of  those  noble  families  of  whose  scions  the 
Senate  was  composed.  To  those  men  ofltice  meant 
really  work,  and  work  meant  distinction  and  honour ; 
all  had  served  the  State  from  their  youth,  and  most 
of  them  had  learnt  how  to  serve  it  from  their 
fathers.  If  they  had  only  been  called  on  to  transact 
the  ordinary  duties  of  a  Greek  ttoXItt)^,  these  tradi- 
tions might  have  had  less  force,  and  the  peculiar 
capacity  of  the  Eoman  senator  might  never  have  been 
developed  ;  but,  drawn  on  as  she  was  from  war  to  war, 
Eome  produced  exactly  the  kind  of  Statesmanship 
she  most  needed,  and  produced  it  also  in  abundance. 
We  need,  then,  feel  no  surprise  that  in  all  departments  "^ 
of  government  the  Senate,  in  which  was  gathered 
all  the  wisdom  and  experience  of  the  State,  should 
have  gradually  drawn  the  actual  conduct  of  business  *^ 
into  its  own  hands.     And  we  have  only  to  read  a 


236  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

few  chapters  of  Livy's  later  books  to  convince  our- 
selves that  this  was  so.  The  people  pass  laws,  but 
at  the  instance  of  the  Senate ;  and  it  is  the  decrees 
of  the  Senate  which  the  magistrate  executes.  The 
Senate  is  foreign  minister,  financial  minister,  war 
minister ;  and  the  Senate  is  responsible  to  no  other 
person  or  assembly.  Here  is  an  oligarchic  organ  in 
the  highest  state  of  adequacy  to  which  necessity  and 
use  can  develop  it. 

3.  At  Athens,  as  we  have  seen,  the  work  of 
government  in  all  its  details  was  done  by  the  people 
themselves.  A  novice  in  Eoman  history  might  not 
unnaturally  ask  why  the  Eoman  people  was  incap- 
able of  such  work,  or  let  it  pass  without  remon- 
strance into  the  hands  of  a  few.  To  account  for 
this  merely  by  reference  to  the  composition  of  the 
Senate,  and  the  long  series  of  wars  through  which 
the  Senate  steered  the  State,  is  hardly  going  far 
enough,  it  might  be  said ;  the  people,  as  really  and 
ultimately  sovereign,  was  itself  responsible  for  these 
tendencies,  and  might  have  substituted  for  them  a 
peaceful  development  towards  real  democracy. 

It  is  to  the  Eoman  character  and  public  economy 
that  we  must  look  for  an  explanation  of  this 
difficulty.  The  very  first  thing  a  student  of  the 
Eepublican  period  should  set  himself  to  do  is  to 
make  it  clear  to  himself  what  manner  of  people 
the  Eomans  were,  and  what  was  their  daily  life  and 
occupation.  In  the  Latin  literature  he  ordinarily 
reads,  in  Virgil  and  Horace,  for  example,  he  will 
find  some  indication  of  the  way  in  which  the  later 
Eomans  believed  their  ancestors  to  have  lived.     But 


yin  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  237 

let  him  open  the  earliest  Latin  prose  work  which  we 
possess,  and  if  he  reads  no  further  than  the  very 
first  chapter,  he  will  find  a  sentence  or  two  which 
should  give  him  a  clue  never  to  be  lost  sight  of.  Cato 
wrote  his  work  on  agriculture  at  the  close  of  the 
period  I  have  been  speaking  of,  w^hen  serious 
changes,  both  in  character  and  economy,  had  begun 
to  tell  upon  the  Eonian  people ;  but  he  had  the 
tradition  in  his  mind  of  an  older  and  better  state  of 
things,  and  acted  upon  it  himself  to  the  best  of  his 
ability.  Here  are  two  sentences  from  his  brief 
preface.  "When  our  forefathers  would  praise  a 
worthy  man,  they  praised  him  as  a  good  husband- 
man, and  a  good  landlord ;  and  they  believed  that 
praise  could  go  no  further."  And  again :  "  Hus- 
bandmen make  the  strongest  men,  and  the  bravest 
soldiers ;  their  gain  is  far  less  selfish,  less  uncertain, 
less  open  to  envy  (than  that  of  the  merchant ")} 

Cato's  evidence  is  borne  out  by  all  we  know 
from  other  sources.  The  older  Roman  and  Latin 
population  had  two  occupations,  agriculture  and 
war,  a  fact  which  is  reflected  in  their  conception  of 
their  great  deity  Mars,  who  was  essentially  the  god 
of  the  husbandman,  yet  had  from  the  first  charac- 
teristics which  could  easily  transform  him  into  a 
god  of  war.  These  farmer- warriors  made  up  that 
true  middle  class  of  which  I  spoke  in  the  last 
chapter.  They  were  not  densely  packed  within  the 
walls  of  a  city,  but  spent  their  time  on  their  farms, 
and  only  came  into  Eome  for  marketing  or  occa- 
sional voting  in  Comitia.  They  had  the  virtues  of 
^  Cato,  De  Re  llustica,  1. 


238  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

an  agricultural  class,  as  Cato  knew ;  but  to  an 
Athenian  their  shortcomings  would  have  been  more 
obvious.  They  were  not  political  men ;  the  real 
end  and  aim  of  all  their  political  struggles  had  so 
far  been  economical  reform,  the  recovery  of  their 
land  and  status,  the  limitation  of  large  estates. 
Constitutional  reform  had  been  a  means,  not  an 
end,  and  had  been  left  in  the  hands  of  their  more 
wealthy  leaders.  They  belonged  to  the  type  which 
the  Spartans  represented  in  Greece ;  they  were  not 
men  of  keen  intellect  or  ready  speech,  nor  were 
they  eager  for  new  things,  or  seekers  after  truth. 
They  knew  their  own  wants,  and  did  their  work 
well ;  they  had  a  strict  sense  of  duty  to  the  State, 
to  their  families,  and  to  the  gods,  which  made 
them  excellent  soldiers,  fathers,  and  citizens.  They 
had  clear  notions,  as  we  have  seen,  of  constituted 
authority,  and  of  the  reasonable  limits  which  may 
be  set  upon  it ;  and  they  had  very  precise  concep- 
tions of  the  nature  and  use  of  legal  transactions. 
But  they  were  not  men  of  the  world,  or  men  of 
affairs,  nor  had  they  the  acuteness  or  the  leisure  of 
the  Athenian.  It  is  plain  that  they  were  not  the 
men  to  govern  themselves ;  government  they  could 
leave  to  their  betters,  who  understood  the  traditions 
of  the  art.  They  were  not  fitted  to  guide,  but  they 
were  always  ready  to  obey  ;  by  their  obedience  they 
conquered  the  world,  but  left  it  to  their  leaders  to 
make  the  best  use  of  their  conquests. 

Democracy,  then,  in  the  Athenian  sense  of  the 
word,  could  never  have  been  realised  at  Eome. 
The  people  had  neither  wisli^  nor  ability  to  govern 


VIII  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGAECHY  239 

themselves,  but  were  perfectly  content  to  elect  their 
magistrates,  and  to  express  their  opinion  occasionally 
on  projects  of  legislation,  of  which  perhaps  they 
only  half  understood  the  import.  They  put  entire 
trust  in  the  governing  class,  and  their  loyalty  made 
the  Senate  an  object  of  awe  for  all  the  peoples  of 
the  Mediterranean.  It  was  long  before  that  loyalty 
gave  way, — not  till  it  became  perfectly  clear  that 
their  natural  interests  were  no  longer  in  harmony 
with  those  of  their  rulers ;  not  till  the  trusteeship 
of  the  oligarchy  had  been  grossly  and  irretrievably 
abused.  And  by  that  time  they  were  themselves 
ruined,  both  morally  and  materially ;  their  part  in 
the  history  of  the  world  was  played  out,  and  they 
rapidly  disappeared.  By  that  time,  too,  the  whole 
face  of  the  civilised  world  was  changed ;  the  City- 
State  was  no  more,  and  a  new  political  system  was 
beginning  slowly  to  appear. 

Before  we  leave  the  Eoman  oligarchy  and  its 
work  of  conquest  and  government,  let  us  turn  for 
a  moment  to  another  side  of  its  indefatigable  ac- 
tivity, to  which  I  have  had  no  opportunity  as  yet  of 
alluding.  At  the  end  of  the  last  chapter  it  was 
pointed  out  that  in  the  period  of  the  equalisation  of 
the  Orders  was  laid  the  foundation-stone  of  that 
system  of  legal  rules  which  was  to  become  Rome's 
most  valuable  legacy  to  modern  civilisation.  The 
Twelve  Tables,  however  harsh  and  rude  they  may 
appear  to  us,  provided  a  sufficient  legal  basis  for 
the  mutual  transactions  of  Roman  citizens.  But 
this  code  was  meant  for  Roman  citizens  only;  it 


240  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

expressed  the  jus  civile,  that  is,  the  law  which  bound 
Gives  Bomani  and  no  others.  Now  in  the  oligarch- 
ical period  just  surveyed,  in  which  Eome  came  into 
contact  with  and  conquered  a  great  number  of  other 
peoples,  Italians,  Greeks,  Carthaginians,  Spaniards, 
her  commercial  transactions  increased  to  an  extra- 
ordinary extent,  and  the  city  became  the  chief 
centre  of  business  for  the  whole  Mediterranean.  In 
the  earlier  part  of  this  period  a  serious  legal  difficulty 
arose  out  of  this  great  commercial  development. 
Each  foreigner  w^ho  came  on  business  to  Eome  was 
accustomed  to  the  law  of  his  own  State,  but  at 
Eome  that  law  had,  of  course,  no  force,  nor  could 
the  Eoman  jus  civile  be  of  any  avail  for  him,  unless 
the  use  of  it  were  specially  secured  him  by  treaty, 
which  was  very  rarely  the  case.^  If  he  wanted  to 
borrow  on  equitable  terms,  or  to  recover  a  debt,  or 
to  prove  his  right  to  a  property  he  had  bought,  he 
had  no  legal  force  to  fall  back  on ;  all  his  trans- 
actions were  carried  on  at  a  risk,  and  had  no  more 
legal  security  than  the  barter  of  savages. 

About  the  end  of  the  first  war  with  Carthage,  it 
became  plain  that  if  Eome  was  to  rival  or  to  outdo 
the  great  trading  city  of  the  west,  her  government 
must  find  some  method  of  giving  a  legal  sanction 
to  the  transactions  of  foreigners  with  Eomans,  or 
among  themselves  on  her  own  soil.  It  does  not 
seem  to  have  occurred  to  them  to  apply  the  jus 
civile  in  this  way,  for  the  spirit  of  the  City-State 

^  Such  a  provision  is  to  be  found  in  tlie  second  treaty  with 
Carthage,  preserved  in  Polybius,  iii.  24.  Reciprocal  advantages 
were  secured  to  Romans  trading  at  Carthage. 


VIII  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  241 

was  still  strong  in  them  in  spite  of  its  wonderful 
expansion,  and  the  law  of  the  Tables  was  a  sacred 
heirloom  of  the  cives  Bomani,  whose  paramount 
importance  in  the  world  was  increasing  every  year. 
The  dignity  of  the  Eoman  could  not  brook  the  use 
of  his  most  precious  possession  for  the  benefit  of 
foreigners. 

This  exclusive  spirit  forced  the  Eomans  to  a 
step  by  which  a  permanent  solution  of  the  difficulty 
was  found ;  at  the  same  time  it  opened  a  new 
period  of  development  for  their  system  of  law,  and 
widened  their  appreciation  of  all  legal  principles, 
which  had  hitherto  been  as  narrow  as  they  were 
clear  and  strong.  They  fell  back  now  on  that 
distinct  conception  of  magisterial  power  to  which  I 
have  already  several  times  alluded.  They  had  already, 
at  the  time  of  the  reforms  of  Licinius  and  Sextius, 
handed  over  the  civil  jurisdiction  of  the  consul  to  a 
praetor,  a  new  magistrate  with  an  imperium,  like  that 
of  the  consul,  sufficient  to  enforce  his  commands  and 
rulings,  though  he  was  inferior  to  the  consul  in  pre- 
cedence and  dignity.  In  243  B.C.  they  added  another 
praetor,  whose  business  it  was  to  be  to  decide  all 
suits  between  Eomans  and  foreigners,  or  between 
foreigners  themselves ;  and  henceforward  the 
praetor  urbanus  administered  the  jus  civile,  while 
the  praetor  peregrinus  was  to  do  the  best  he  could 
with  another  kind  of  jus,  in  which  the  solution  oC 
the  growing  difficulty  was  to  be  found. 

What  was  ih^  jus  which  the  praetor  peregrinus 
was  to  administer  ?  It  existed  in  no  code,  like  the 
Twelve  Tables ;  it  was  not  law  in  any  true  sense  of  the. 

R 


242  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

word.  It  consisted  of  the  practices  and  customs  of 
the  various  peoples,  chiefly  Italian  and  Greek,  who 
came  in  that  age  to  Eome  on  business,  and  needed 
a  legal  basis  for  their  transactions ;  taken  together, 
no  doubt,  with  those  principles  of  the  jus  civile  in 
which  the  praetor  himself  had  been  trained,  and  from 
which  he  could  not  escape,  especially  in  dealings 
between  foreigners  and  Eomans.  This  jus  came  to 
be  called  the  j^s,^7?:^mmj^or Jaw  of^all  peoples,  when 
lawyers  began  to  reason  upon  it  and  to  endeavour 
to  explain  it  scientifically ;  at  first,  however,  it  was 
no  more  than  a  series  of  rulings  of  which  the  force 
depended  simply  on  the  imperium  of  the  praetor, 
entrusted  to  him  for  this  purpose  by  the  Eoman 
people.  Thus  their  clear  idea  of  magisterial  power 
came  to  the  rescue  of  the  Eomans  when  their  legal 
sense  was  puzzled  by  the  new  conditions  under 
which  they  found  themselves ;  and  it  combined 
with  their  strong  practical  common  sense  to  build 
up  a  system  of  equity  outside  the  narrow  law  of 
their  own  State. 

From  the  close  of  the  first  Punic  war  and  on- 
wards, the  rulings  of  the  praetor  peregrinus  con- 
tinued to  accumulate,  and  to  form  a  body  of  legal 
principles  applicable  to  almost  all  difficulties  that 
might  arise.  They  were  recorded  year  by  year  in  the 
edict  which  each  praetor  issued  at  the  beginning  of 
his  year  of  office,  by  virtue  of  the  jus  edicendi 
which  all  the  higher  Eoman  magistrates  possessed. 
Here  the  conservative  spirit  of  the  Eomans,  and 
their  instinct  for  order  and  precedent  in  public 
transactions,  saved  them  from  a  contingency  which 


vin  THE  PERFECTION  OF  OLIGARCHY  243 

miglit  have  ruined  the  new  system,  and  disordered 
the  relations  between  themselves  and  their  subjects 
and  neighbours.  Every  prsetor  issued  a  fresh  edict 
on  entering  office,  and  it  was  in  his  power,  if  he 
chose,  to  drop  all  the  rulings  of  his  predecessors. 
Had  he  done  this,  the  legal  sanction  of  his  juris- 
diction would  have  had  no  fixity  or  credit.  What  he 
did  was  to  adopt  the  edict  of  his  predecessor  in  its 
entirety,  expunging  perhaps  only  such  rulings  as 
had  been  clearly  inexpedient,  and  adding  such 
others  as  his  own  good  sense  or  his  predecessor's 
experience  suggested.  Thus  was  formed  by  slow 
degrees  a  solid  body  of  precedent,  which  had  the 
force  of  law  as  issuing  from  the  impermm.  It  was 
not  law  in  the  sense  in  which  the  Twelve  Tables 
were  law,  but  it  was  infinitely  more  valuable  to 
mankind,  and  it  was  capable  of  almost  endless 
expansion.  It  even  came  to  be  considered,  in  Sir 
H.  Maine's  words,  "  as  a  great,  though  imperfectly 
developed  model,  to  which  all  law  ought,  as  far  as 
possible,  to  conform."  And  it  was  the  immediate 
fruit  of  that  love  of  work  and  attention  to  detail  of 
which  the  oligarchy  gave  such  splendid  proofs  in 
other  departments  of  government;  and  when  we 
blame  them  for  hardness  and  materialism,  for 
rapacity  and  cruelty,  it  is  as  well  to  remember 
that  they  made  at  least  one  discovery  which  was 
of  great  and  lasting  value.  They  found  out  that 
the  law  of  the  City-State  was  not  equal  to  the 
needs  of  mankind  in  an  age  of  increasing  human 
intercourse ;  and  that  such  intercourse  could  be 
governed  by  rules  drawn  from   a  wider   range   of 


244  THE  CITY-STATE  chap,  viii 

life  than  that  of  a  single  iro\L<;,  if  these  were 
sanctioned  by  the  irresistible  force  of  the  iw/perium 
of  the  Koman  magistrate.^ 

^  On  the  subject  of  the  y^^s  gentium  and  the  praetor's  edict  read 
Gains,  i.  1  ;  Maine,  Ancient  Laio,  chs.  iii.  and  iv.  ;  Sohm's  Insti- 
tutes of  Roman  Law  (translated  by  Ledlie),  pp.  38-58.  Of.  also 
Mommsen,  Staatsrecht,  iii.  590  foil.,  who  embodies  the  researches 
of  Professor  Nettleship  into  the  meaning  and  history  of  the  phrase 
jus  gentium. 


nr  rr  yr^ 


CHAPTEE    IX 

DECAY    OF    THE    CITY-STATE INTERNAL    CAUSES 

So  far  we  have  been  chiefly  following  the  development 
of  those  two  famous  City- States  of  antiquity  which 
have  left  us  a  richer  inheritance  than  any  others 
It  would  be  a  long  tale  to  reckon  up  the  various 
causes  to  which  the  pre-eminence  of  Athens  and 
Eome  may  be  ascribed ;  but  from  what  has  already 
been  said  in  these  pages,  one  at  least,  and  that  a 
leading  one,  should  have  become  tolerably  clear. 
These  two  States,  after  passing  through  tlie"' 
normal  stages  of  early  growth,  succeeded  in  over- 
coming the  most  serious  dangers  which  those  stages 
brought  with  them,  and  above  all,  the  disunion 
caused  by  the  struggles  of  the  unprivileged  many 
to  prove  themselves  a  genuine  part  of  the  State, 
and  to  share  in  its  government  equally  with  the 
privileged  few.  In  other  words,  when  the  principle 
of  locality  came  into  collision  with  the  older 
principle  of  kinship,  these  two  States  took  no 
serious  or  permanent  damage  from  the  ensuing 
strife  of  interests.     So  far  from  being  crippled  in  J 


246  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


this  critical  period  of  their  existence,  they  emerged 
from  it  stronger  and  healthier,  as  from  a  fever 
which  has  purged  away  all  unwholesome  tendencies  ; 
for  they  gained  vigour  by  gaining  union — by  an 
almost  complete  fusion  of  all  conflicting  elements. 
In  each  case  the  few  were  reasonable  enough  to 
refrain  from  violence  in  the  contest,  and  to  acknow- 
ledge in  course  of  time  that  their  commanding 
position  had  been  wrested  from  them ;  and  in  each 
case,  too,  the  many  were  rational  enough  to  make  a 
moderate  use  of  their  victory.  It  was  a  struggle, 
both  at  Eome  and  Athens,  of  reasonableness  against 
ancient  prejudice ;  and  in  each  case  the  victory  of 
good  sense  was  followed  by  a  long  period  of  unity 
and  prosperity.  Athens,  pursuing  a  course  natural 
to  the  quick  intelligence  of  her  citizens,  developed 
the  most  complete  democracy  that  the  world  has 
ever  yet  seen ;  and  at  Eome  there  grew  up  an 
oligarchy,  founded  on  the  reverence  of  the  Eomans 
for  tried  practical  wisdom,  whose  extraordinary 
aptitude  for  government  changed  the  whole  face  of 
the  civilised  world. 

But  many,  and  perhaps  most,  other  States  could 
hardly  have  been  equally  fortunate.  Tyranny,  as  we 
have  seen,  was  mild  at  Athens  and  almost  absent 
at  Eome,  and  in  both  States  it  helped  rather  than 
hindered  the  ultimate  fusion  of  interests.  But  in 
some  States,  at  least,  tyranny  must  have  left  the 
jarring  elements  of  society  unharmonised  and  out 
of  tune.  After  the  earlier  tyrannies  had  passed 
away,  about  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century  B.C., 
we  begin  to  hear  constantly  of  discord  within  the 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  247 

cities — discord  that  in  some  instances  reaches  to  a 
terrible  pitch  of  recklessness,  and  points  to  a  com- 
plete absence  of  the  spirit  of  compromise  and  reason 
which  we  have  met  with  at  Athens  and  Eome.  In 
all  such  cases  the  phenomena  are  much  the  same ; 
the  few,  the  comfortable,  the  rich,  the  well-born, 
the  good  and  honourable,  as  they  were  variously 
called,  are  at  feud  with  the  many,  or,  as  their 
enemies  called  them,  the  base,  the  bad,  the  low-born. 
In  these  States  it  is  plain  that  no  union  of  hearts 
has  been  achieved,  and  that  the  government  must 
necessarily  be  in  the  hands  of  one  party  or  the 
other,  and  that  the  party  in  power  will  deal  harshly 
with  its  opponents.  And,  in  fact,  throughout  the 
fifth  century  almost  every  City-State  is  either  a 
decided  oligarchy  or  a  decided  democracy,  and  as 
the  oligarchies  have  the  stronger  tradition  and 
greater  experience  to  help  them,  they  for  the  most 
part  are  found  to  have  the  government  in  their 
hands.  They  sometimes  even  succeed  in  getting 
rid  altogether  of  the  most  dangerous  portion 
of  the  many,  who  leave  the  city  in  a  body,  not 
to  return  as  did  the  plebs  at  Eome ;  and  some- 
times it  is  the  many  who  turn  the  few  out 
of  house  and  home,  as  the  only  way  of  secur- 
ing themselves  against  political  intrigues  and  con- 
spiracies. 

Instances  of  this  uncompromising  and  fatal 
spirit  are  to  be  found  in  abundance  both  in 
Herodotus  and  Thucydides,  who  often  relate  them 
with  apparent  indifference,  as  though  they  were  too 
common   to  call  for  special  emphasis.      But  let  us 


248  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


take  two  or  three  notable  cases  by  way  of  illustra- 
tion; cases  of  which  we  have  some  definite  in- 
formation, and  which  will  fix  themselves  on  the 
memory  as  we  become  sensible  of  the  disastrous 
results  which  each  of  them  brought  incidentally 
upon  the  whole  of  Hellas. 

At  the  end  of  the  sixth  century  Naxos  was  one 
of  the  most  flourishing  States  in  the  ^gean  Sea ;  it 
lay  in  a  most  favourable  position,  not  too  near  the 
coast  to  be  in  danger  of  conquest  by  the  Persian, 
and  was  the  largest  of  the  islands  which  the 
Greeks  knew  as  the  Cyclades.  It  was  reported  to 
be  able  to  muster  8000  armed  men,  and  to  equip 
a  large  fleet  of  warships.  It  was  also  said  to  be 
rich  both  in  money  and  slaves.  But  Naxos  was 
divided  against  itself.  In  the  year  501  B.C.  a 
number  of  its  oKgarchical  party  (of  the  "  fat,"  or 
comfortable,  as  Herodotus  calls  them)  were  sent 
into  exile  by  the  Demos,  or  fled  of  their  own  accord 
before  violence.  They  chose  to  go  to  Miletus,  then 
the  most  powerful  Greek  city  in  Ionia.  Miletus 
had  also  suffered  from  internal  discord,  but  had 
caUed  in  the  Parians  to  cure  the  disease,  and  was 
now  prospering  greatly  under  the  strong  rule  of  a 
leading  citizen,  Aristagoras.  To  this  man  the  Naxian 
oligarchs  applied  for  help.  Aristagoras  did  not 
refuse  it,  but  for  reasons  of  his  own  he  made  it  a 
bargain  that  he  should  himself  ask  aid  for  the 
undertaking  from  his  friend  Artaphernes,  the  Persian 
satrap  of  Western  Asia.  This  is  a  story  which  is 
constantly  repeated  in  various  forms  during  the 
two  following  centuries  ;  Greeks,  quarrelling  among 


IX 


DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  249 


themselves,  allow  the  common  enemy  to  be  called 
in.  In  this  case,  indeed,  the  Naxian  democracy 
were  for  the  present  let  alone,  nor  do  we  know 
what  became  of.  the  exiled  oligarchs ;  for  Aris- 
tagoras  and  Artaphernes  fell  out,  and  the  former, 
fearing  the  consequences,  and  hoping  as  leader  of 
the  Greeks  to  make  himself  "  king,"  i.e.  tyrant  of  Mi- 
letus, stirred  up  the  Greek  cities  in  Asia  Minor  to 
attack  Persia,  and  thereby  ultimately  brought  upon 
all  Hellas  the  fearful  perils  of  Persian  invasion. 
In  this  invasion  Naxos  herself  was  one  of  the  first 
to  suffer  ;  her  city  and  its  temples  were  burned,  and 
a  part  of  her  population  enslaved.  Among  the 
contingents  of  which  the  Greek  fleet  at  Salamis  was 
composed,  there  were  but  four  ships  from  Naxos ; 
and  these,  which  had  been  sent  by  the  democracy 
to  join,  not  the  Greek,  but  the  Persian  fleet,  only 
escaped  the  disgrace  of  other  islanders  by  disregard- 
ing the  orders  of  their  too  submissive  government. 
Naxos  had  fallen  low,  and  never  reaUy  lifted  up 
her  head  again.-^ 

The  other  great  war  which  did  most  to  sap  the 
vitality  of  the  Greeks  was  also  immediately  brought 
about  by  one  of  these  violent^  intestine  feuds.  The 
story,  familiar  as  it  is,  is  worth  careful  study  in 
Thucydides's  own  words,  for  it  shows  how  easily 
the  internal  dissensions  of  a  single  city  could  awaken 
old  jealousies  between  other  cities,  and  kindle  them 
into  fresh  animosities,  leading  at  last  to  a  general 

1  For  this  story,  read  Herodotus,  v.  28  foil.,  and  of.  vi.  96,  and 
viii.  46.  Cf.  Thucyd,  i.  98  for  the  later  revolt  of  Naxos  from 
Athens  ;  after  which  the  island  is  seldom  mentioned. 


250  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

conflagration  in  which  the  life  and  strength  of  all 
that  was  best  in  Hellas  was  withered.  Thucydides 
shall  tell  the  tale  for  himself  of  the  first  beginning 
of  this  momentous  war. 

"The  city  of  Epidamnus  is  situated  on  the  right  hand  as 
you  sail  up  the  Ionian  gulf.  Near  it  dwelt  the  Taulantians, 
a  barbarian  tribe  of  the  Illyrian  race.  The  place  was 
colonised  by  the  Corcyrajans,  but  under  the  leadership  of  a 
Corinthian  ;  ...  he  was  invited,  according  to  ancient  custom, 
from  the  mother  city,  and  Corinthians  and  other  Dorians 
joined  in  the  colony.  In  process  of  time  Epidamnus  became 
great  and  populous,  but  there  followed  a  long  period  of  civil 
commotion,  and  the  city  is  said  to  have  been  brought  low  in 
a  war  against  the  neighbouring  barbarians,  and  to  have  lost 
her  ancient  power.  At  last,  shortly  before  the  Peloponnesian 
war,  the  notables  (i.e.  oligarchs)  loere  driven  out  by  the  people  ; 
the  exiles  went  over  to  the  barbarians,  and,  uniting  with  them, 
plundered  the  remaining  inhabitants  both  by  sea  and  land.  These, 
finding  themselves  hard  pressed,  sent  an  embassy  to  the 
mother  city,  Corcyra,  begging  the  Corcyrseans  not  to  leave 
them  to  their  fate,  but  to  reconcile  them  to  the  exiles  and 
put  down  their  barbarian  enemies.  The  ambassadors  came, 
and  sitting  as  suppliants  in  the  temple  of  Here,  preferred 
their  request  ;  but  the  Corey r?eans  would  not  listen  to  them, 
and  they  returned  without  success,"  etc.^ 

Here  we  must  note,  not  oidy  the  struggle  of  fac- 
tions, and  the  expulsion  of  the  oligarchs,  but  once 
more  the  significant  fact  that  these  are  ready  to 
take  part  with  non-Hellenic  peoples  in  order  to  get 
the  better  of  their  own  fellow-citizens.  And  worse 
still,  when  the  cry  comes  up  to  Corcyra"  of  the  be- 
sieged Epidamnians  asking  for  friendly  intervention 
and  aid  against  barbarian  attack,  the  mother  city  will 
not  listen ;  she  prefers  to  sit  still  and  see  the  up- 
^  Thucyd.  i.  24  (Jowett's  translation). 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  251 

start  Epiclamnus  destroyed.  A  policy  so  selfish  and 
suicidal  in  itself  was  also  full  of  mischief  for  Greece. 
Epidamnus  called  for  aid  from  Corinth,  the  mother 
city  of  Corcyra ;  this  brought  Cormth  and  Corcyra 
into  collision,  in  accordance  with  an  old  and 
smouldering  ill-will ;  Corcyra  left  the  Pelopon- 
nesian  league  and  joined  the  Athenian,  and  thus 
by  exaggerating  the  tension  which  had  long  existed 
between  Athens  and  Sparta,  brought  about  the 
war  in  which  the  best  energies  of  Greece  were 
wasted.  Corcyra  herself,  like  Naxos,  paid  dearly 
for  her  folly  and  selfishness.  Five  years  later  she 
was  herself  the  victim  of  one  of  these  outbreaks 
of  faction,  the  direct  inheritance  of  her  former 
misdoings ;  and  this  outbreak,  to  which  I  shall 
shortly  again  refer,  was  perhaps  the  most  savage 
and  the  most  paralysing  of  any  of  which  we  have 
record.^ 

I  shall  mention  one  more  example  of  this  epi- 
demic disease,  not  because  it  was  very  serious  in 
itself  or  its  consequences,  but  as  a  negative  instance, 
showing  that  where  a  State  had  once  fairly  over- 
come the  difficulties  of  disunion,  any  attempt  of  a 
weaker  party  to  overthrow  a  stronger  was  not  likely 
to  cause  permanent  ruin  or  weakness.  In  411  B.C. 
the  oligarchical  party  at  Athens,  which  had  always 
continued  to  exist,  and  to  carry  on  a,  policy  of 
reasonable  opposition  to  the  leaders  of  the  democracy, 
succeeded  for  a  short  time  in  getting  the  govern- 
ment into  its  own  hands.  The  story  of  this 
singular  episode  in   Athenian    history,  as  told    by 

1  Tliucyd.  iii.  70. 


252  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


Thucydides,^  is  of  very  great  value,  and  should  be 
studied  with  the  utmost  care ;  for  it  shows  admir- 
ably, not  only  the  strength  of  the  safeguards  of  the 
democracy  (see  p.  170),  but  also  the  advantages 
possessed  by  a  State  whose  noblest  traditions  were 
traditions  of  the  union  of  all  interests  in  self-im- 
provement or  in  self-defence.  I  may  not  describe 
it  here  at  length ;  but  the  reader  of  Thucydides's 
account  should  note  accurately  the  following  points 
in  it.  First,  he  should  examine  the  circumstances 
under  which  this  revolution  came  about,  and  observe 
that  it  was  only  under  the  severest  possible  pressure, 
and  with  the  hope  of  bringing  back  by  this  means 
to  Athens  the  only  man  whose  abilities  and  resources 
would  be  likely  to  save  her.  Secondly,  passing  in 
review  the  details  of  the  revolution,  he  should  see 
how,  without  any  open  violence,  the  constitution  was 
changed  hy  a  show  of  constitutional  means,  the  Demos 
being  induced  by  its  own  orators  to  resign  its  own 
sovereignty,  and  to  entrust  it  to  a  Board  of  500  ; 
and  how  even  then  it  was  deemed  necessary  to 
keep  up  the  phantom  of  a  democracy,  in  the  shape 
of  a  body  of  5000,  which  perhaps  never  really  met. 
And  lastly,  he  should  pursue  the  story  to  its  sequel, 
till  he  finds  the  oligarchy  of  500  done  away  with 
the  very  next  year,  and  the  democratic  constitution 
revived  in  its  entirety  without  needless  violence. 

This  disease  of  internal  feud,  of  which  the 
Athenian  revolution  was  so  mild  an  example,  was 
epidemic  in  Greece  during  the  fifth  century,  and 
especially    during    the    Peloponnesian    war.      That 

1  Thucyd.  viii.  53-70, 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  253 

war  may  in  fact  be  called  a  war  of  oligarchies  and 
democracies ;  it  could  not  have  lasted  so  long,  or 
been  maintained  with  such  persistent  determination, 
if  in  all  the  cities  that  took  part  in  it  there  had 
not  been  some  feeling  of  self-interest  or  fear,  some 
desire  of  revenge  upon  enemies  at  home  as  well  as 
abroad.  In  almost  every  city  the  few  were  for 
Sparta,  and  the  many  for  Athens,^  and  the  party  in 
power  knew  that  its  only  hope  of  safety  either  for 
person  or  property  lay  in  the  retention  of  that 
power  at  all  costs,  and  in  aiding  to  the  utmost  the 
confederates  on  their  own  side.  In  the  course  of  the 
war  both  leading  States  forcibly  changed  the  consti- 
tutions of  many  cities  ;  and  when  it  was  over,  Sparta 
used  her  victory  to  oligarchise  them  aU.  These  ^^ 
facts  speak  plainly  of  the  universality  and  the 
bitterness  of  the  strife  of  interests  in  the  narrow 
world  of  the  City-State. 

And  it  is  to  this  that  we  must  look  for  the  best 
explanation  of  the  inward  decay  of  this  form  of^^ 
State.  All  States,  like  all  individuals,  are  liable  to 
certain  diseases,  and  doubtless  there  were  many,  of 
which  we  can  gain  no  accurate  diagnosis,  which 
attacked  the  City-State  of  Greece  and  Italy.  We 
have  already  had  to  deal  with  one — the  Tyrannis ; 
and  we  found  that  its  effects  were  as  often  good  as 
bad.  But  from  this  other  we  can  trace  only  evil 
consequences.  The  best  test  of  healthiness  in  a 
State  is  union^pf.  interests  for  the  common  good,or 
at  the  least,  the  reciprocal  action  of  opposing  parties 
in  a  reasonable  spirit.  The  tyrannis  tended  to 
1  Thucyd.  iii.  47,  2  ;  iii.  82,  1. 


254  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


crush  out  the  bitterness  of  party  feeling,  and  to 
open  men's  eyes  to  wider  interests  than  those  which 
the  "  Few "  and  the  "  Many  "  respectively  repre- 
sented ;  but  this  new  disease  was  simply  the  re- 
assertion  of  the  old  spirit  of  disunion, — the  breaking 
out  of  the  old  Adam,  of  the  inbred  sin  of  the  City- 
State,  in  a  form  much  less  natural  and  far  more 
dangerous  than  that  which  was  healed  at  Athens 
by  Solon,  and  at  Kome  by  a  gradual  process  of  com- 
promise. It  meant,  not  so  much  the  healthy  self- 
assertion  of  the  people,  and  the  natural  resistance 
of  the  old  clans, — that  inevitable  struggle  was  over 
in  most  States ;  but  a  struggle  of  reckless  poverty 
against  selfish  wealth.  The  old  parties  are  still 
there,  and  they  bear  the  same  names ;  but  each 
seems  to  have  degenerated  and  to  be  losing  self- 
control. 

The  name  which  the  Greeks  gave  to  this  fell 
disease  was  Stasis}  i.e.  a  standing^  or  taking  up  a 
distinct  position  in  the  State,  with  malicious  intent 
towards  another  party.  During  the  Peloponnesian 
war  it  aroused  grave  anxiety  in  the  mind  of  the 
philosophic  historian  of  that  day,  and  in  commenting 
on  one  particular  and  most  malignant  outbreak,  he 
has  spoken  in  language  so  intense,  so  weighty,  and 
withal  so  difficult,  that  he  seems  to  importune  us 
for  ou.r  attention  by  the  very  earnestness  of  his 
endeavour  to  express  himself      It  will  be  well  worth 

^  Cf.  the  Latin  seditio.  The  malicious  intent  implied  in  stasis 
is  well  illustrated  in  the  oligarchic  oath  quoted  by  Aristotle 
{Pol.  1310  A) — "  I  will  hate  the  Demos,  and  do  it  all  the  harm 
in  my  power." 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  255 

our  while  to  see  what  it  is  that  Thucydides  is  so 
seriously  trying  to  impress  on  his  countrymen.^ 

Stjjisis  is  common  to  mankind,  he  says,  i.e.  to 
mankind  living  in  the  only  form  of  community 
which  he  recognised  for  civilised  society ;  but  it 
differs  in  intensity  according  to  circumstances,  and 
especially  is  it  accentuated  by  war.  For  war  is  a 
severe  schoolmaster,  who  makes  men  discontented 
and  angry ;  the  rich  man's  property  is  heavily 
taxed,  the  poor  man  is  forced  to  serve  in  the  field, 
and  thus  the  capital  which  each  possesses  may  be 
wasted  and  destroyed.  After  this  preliminary  re- 
mark, which  had  a  special  meaning  for  his  own  age,  he 
goes  on  to  point  out  the  moral  and  pohtical  effects 
of  stasis.  The  virtues,  he  says,  seemed  to  lose  their 
value,  and  to  change  into  something  foreign  to  their 
true  nature.  What  in  ordinary  times  would  be 
called  defects  of  character,  laid  claim  now  to  be 
considered  excellences.  "  Eeckless  daring  was  held 
to  be  loyal  courage ;  prudent  delay  was  the  excuse 
of  a  coward ;  moderation  was  the  disguise  of  un- 
manly weakness ;  to  know  everything  was  to  do 
nothing.  The  lover  of  violence  was  always  trusted, 
and  his  opponent  suspected.  .  .  .  The  tie  of  party 
was  stronger  than  that  of  blood,  because  a  partisan 
was  more  ready  to  dare  without  asking  why."  ^ 

A  society  of  clubs  and  coteries  took  the  place  of 
family  life  and  family  affection,  a  sure  sign  of 
internal  decay  in  States  that  had  been  built  up  on 
the  foundation  of  the  family  and  the  clan.      Sim- 

1  Tlmcyd.  ii.  82,  83. 
H  Jowett,  Thucydides,  vol.  i.  p.  222. 


256  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP, 


plicity  and  straightforward  dealing  were  laughed 
at,  which  means  that  the  weakest  points  in  the 
Greek  character  were  now  coming  to  the  front. 
And  lastly,  turning  to  matters  more  strictly  political, 
Thucydides  notes  the  corruption  of  party  principles, 
and  the  destruction  of  the  life-giving  middle  classes. 
He  shall  speak  again  in  his  own  words : — 

"  The  cause  of  all  these  evils  was  the  love  of  power, 
originating  in  avarice  and  ambition,  and  the  party-spirit 
which  is  engendered  in  them  when  men  are  fairly  embarked 
in  a  contest.  For  the  leaders  on  either  side  used  specious 
names  ;  the  one  party  professing  to  uphold  the  constitutional 
equality  of  the  many,  the  other  the  wisdom  of  an  aristocracy, 
while  they  made  the  public  interests,  to  which  in  name  only 
they  were  devoted,  in  reality  their  prize.  Striving  in  every 
way  to  overcome  each  other,  they  committed  the  most  mon- 
strous crimes  ;  yet  even  these  were  surpassed  by  the  magni- 
tude of  their  revenges,  which  they  pursued  to  the  very 
uttermost,  neither  party  observing  any  definite  limits  either 
of  justice  or  public  expediency,  but  both  alike  making  the 
caprice  of  the  moment  their  law.  Either  by  the  help  of  an 
unrighteous  sentence,  or  grasping  power  with  the  strong 
hand,  they  were  eager  to  satiate  the  impatience  of  party- 
spirit.  .  .  .  And  the  citizens  who  were  of  neither  ])cifty  fell  a 
prey  to  both;  either  they  were  disliked  because  they  held 
aloof,  or  men  were  jealous  of  their  surviving."  ^ 

It  may  be  said  that  this  language  is  exaggerated, 
that  Thucydides  is  sophistically  making  the  most  of 
his  point,  and  is  carried  away  by  the  very  magic 
of  the  marvellous  language  which  he  is  here  forcing 
into  his  service.  But  making  all  allowance  for  the 
literary  characteristics  of  his  age,  I  cannot  but 
believe  that  in  writing  this  he  was  conscious  of  a. 
great  truth, — of  a  serious  unnoticed  evil, — and  that 

^  Jowett,  Thucydides,  vol.  i.  p,  223. 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  257 

it  is  his  earnest  conviction,  and  not  only  his 
rhetorical  art,  which  has  led  him  into  these  crabbed 
constructions  and  antithetical  obscurities.  He  sees 
evil  days  coming  upon  Greece,  and  he  marks  the 
cause  as  being  not  so  much  the  deadly  war  in  which 
almost  all  Greek  cities  were  engaged,  as  the  internal 
tendency  to  disease  on  which  that  war  acted  with 
fatal  result.  The  life-blood  of  the  City- State,  he 
believed,  was  poisoned  and  fevered ;  the  true  end 
of  this  form  of  social  life  ,was  no  longer  pursued ; 
every  organ  lost  its  natural  and  healthy  action. 
And  we  are  justified  in  believing  that  Thucydides 
was  right ;  for  the  Greek  cities  never  wholly  re- 
covered their  tone  after  the  war  which  had  so  sadly 
exaggerated  their  chief  inherent  weakness.  Corcyra, 
for  example,  whose  misfortunes  suggested  these 
remarks  to  the  historian,  was  a  powerful  State 
before  the  war  and  its  attendant  stasis,  but  from 
that  time  forward  ceased  to  exercise  any  influence 
in  Greece.^  She  continued  to  exist,  and  later  in- 
scriptions testify  to  the  working  of  her  council  and 
her  assembly,  but  her  growth  was  apparently 
stunted  and  her  strength  sapped  by  the  disease. 
And  with  loss  of  sanity  and  unity  came  loss  also  of 
that  spirit  of  youth  and  independence  which  in  the 
sixth  and  fifth  centuries  had  borne  such  ripe  fruit 
in  art  and  poetry.     As  we  pursue  Greek  history 

^  Once,  long  afterwards,  her  name  was  heard  in  Greece  again  ; 
but  it  was  as  the  prize  of  a  Sicilian  tyrant,  Agathocles.  This 
obscure  corner  of  Greek  history  has  been  lighted  up  by  the  late 
Professor  Freeman  in  a  part  of  his  history  of  Sicily  as  yet  unpub- 
lished. See  his  smaller  History  of  Sicily  (**  Story  of  the  Nations  " 
series),  p.  258. 

S 


258       -  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


into  the  fourth  century,  we  feel  that  we  have  ah^eady 
enjoyed  the  best  that  Greece  could  give  us ;  that  in 
the  heavier  atmosphere  of  those  later  times,  the 
"  white  violets "  of  Sappho,  and  all  such  delicate 
blooms  of  art  and  literature,  could  no  longer  blow 
in  quite  their  old  perfection. 

Not,  indeed,  that  the  decay  that  set  in  was 
wholly  the  result  of  stasis.  To  reckon  up  all  the 
concurrent  causes,  it  would  be  necessary  to  do  what 
is  no  longer  possible,  —  to  write  the  social  and 
economical  history  of  the  Greek  cities,  as  well  as 
their  external  history  and  their  internecine  feuds. 
But  I  have  followed  Thucydides  in  selecting  this 
phenomenon  of  stasis  as  the  one  cause  most  likely 
to  let  us  into  the  secrets  of  decay,  and  the  one 
cause  of  which  we  have  any  knowledge  that  can  be 
called  accurate  ;  and  I  am  now  further  going  to  call 
Aristotle  as  witness,  though  I  have  only  space  to 
allude  briefly  to  his  evidence. 

Aristotle,  writing  some  sixty  or  seventy  years 
after  Thucydides,  was  so  deeply  impressed  with  the 
universality  and  the  virulence  of  this  disease,  that 
he  devoted  a  whole  book  of  his  Politics  to  the 
analysis  of  it ;  a  book  which  has  aptly  been  called 
a  treatise  on  the  pathology  of  Greek  society.^  He 
deals  with  it  in  his  own  cool  and  scientific  fashion, 
starting  with  a  general  declaration  of  its  nature,  and 
proceeding  to  analyse  it  as  it  appeared  in  the  seve- 
ral forms  of  constitution  (especially  oligarchy  and 
democracy),  and  to  offer  suggestions  in  each  case 

1  Book  V.  in  most  editions  ;  book  viii.  in  Congreve's.     P.  1301 
foil. 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  259 

as  to  the  best  methods  by  which  it  could  be  antici- 
pated. I  can  only  say  a  word  here  of  the  way  in 
which  he  explains  it  in  general,  leaving  the  reader 
to  study  it  in  detail,  and  to  refer  to  it  as  he  goes 
on  his  way  through  Greek  history ;  but  I  shall  also 
note  the  two  chief  preventives  for  the  disease 
suggested  by  the  Politics  as  a  whole,  as  they  pre- 
sented themselves  to  Aristotle  in  the  light  of  all 
Greek  experience  up  to  his  own  time. 

The  real  origin  and  fountain-head  of  all  stasis, 
says  Aristotle,  is  to  be  found  in  a  want  of  propor- 
tion in  the  respective  claims  of  the  two  great 
interests  by  which  most  States  are  divided.  In 
other  words,  it  was  an  imperfect  sense  of  political 
justice  that  sowed  the  seeds  of  the  disease.  Where 
the  many,  for  example,  are  equal  in  one  thing,  i.e., 
are  all  equally  free  and  privileged  under  the  lawJ 
they  will  think  themselves  equal  in  all  other  respects/; 
they  will  claim  to  be  equal  in  ability,  in  virtue,  in 
dignity,  and  in  wealth.  Hence  a  want  of  justice 
and  proportion  in  their  aims,  leading  to  contempti)f 
moral  goodness  and  of  intellectual  worth,  or  more 
often  perhaps  to  harsh  treatment  of  old  families  and 
confiscation  of  their  property.  This  is  naturally 
resented,  and  stasis  follows.  And  in  the  same  way 
the  few,  being  unequal  to  the  rest  in  one  thing,  i.e. 
most  often  in  wealth,  think  themselves  entitled  to 
be  superior  in  all  things ;  they  believe  that  they 
alone  are  the  good,  the  noble,  the  valiant.  Here, 
again,  we  have  the  sense  of  justice  warped,  followed 
by  unfair  dealing  towards  the  many  ;  and  the  resent- 
ment against  this  injustice  will  surely  lead  to  stasis. 


260  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

No  doubt,  Aristotle  adds,  we  are  all  agreed  that  the 
fair  claims  of  all  ought  to  be  respected,  and  that 
justice  lies  in  the  observance  of  such  claims ;  but 
after  all  it  is  over  these  very  claims  that  the  quarrels 
arise,  and  who  is  to  enforce  the  necessary  com- 
promise ?  ^ 

These  remarks,  apparently  so  trite,  have  yet  a 
value  for  all  time,  and  for  all  states  of  society,  for 
they  are  based  upon  facts  of  human  nature  which 
do  not  often  find  such  clear  expression.  And  when 
we  apply  them  to  that  form  of  State  which  Aristotle 
was  analysing,  we  feel  their  force  yet  more  strongly. 
In  our  large  modern  State  parties  and  interests  are 
not  brought  into  direct  and  (so  to  speak)  personal 
collision ;  or  the  heat  of  conflict  in  great  cities  is 
tempered  by  the  comparative  coolness  of  the 
numerous  rural  population.  But  in  the  small 
Greek  city  the  conflicting  interests  were  always 
in  immediate  contact  with  each  other ;  the  rich 
man  daily  met  the  poor  man  and  scorned  him ;  the 
poor  man  daily  saw  the  rich  man  and  hated  him. 
In  each  the  sense  of  justice  and  proportion  was 
continually  being  injured  by  those  little  annoyances 
which  are  so  apt  to  spoil  the  best  natures,  just  as 
an  organ  of  sight  or  hearing  may  become  dulled 
by  being  constantly  brought  to  bear  on  something 
which  irritates  it.  'No  wonder  that  the  fine  sense 
of  the  Greeks  for  order  and  proportion  should  in 
this  world  of  politics  have  lost  its  keenness ;  no 
wonder  that  the  reasonableness  of  Solon  and  the 
Athenians,  and   that    the    practical  good  sense  of 

1  Politics,  1301  A  and  B. 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  261 

the  early  Eomans,  should  have  carried  their  cities 
safely  through  successive  attacks  of  the  disease, 
and  have  proved  them  in  all  respects  the  fittest 
to  survive. 

But  before  we  leave  Aristotle,  let  us  consider 
for  a  moment  the  remedies  which  he  proposes  for 
stasis,  or  rather,  for  he  speaks  hke  a  wise  and 
scientific  physician,  the  two  ways  by  which  these 
outbreaks  may  best  be  anticipated  or  modified. 
The  first  of  these  has  already  been  touched  on  in 
these  pages,  and  referred  to  as  a  leading  cause  of 
the  strength  and  prosperity  both  of  Athens  and 
Eome.  Of  the  second  I  have  as  yet  said  nothing  ; 
and  it  is  time  that  an  opportunity  should  be  found 
for  some  notice  of  it,  however  brief  and  inadequate. 

Aristotle  touches,  indeed,  to  start  with,  on  several 
maxims  which  he  recommends  as  practically  useful 
for  securing  stability  in  a  State ;  but  ere  long  he 
recurs  to  the  main  principle  which  he  has  enunciated 
before — his  favourite  principle  of  the  mean}  It  is 
in  the  middle  stratum  of  society,  he  says,  tha^  salva- 
tion is  to  be  found.  Eeal  equahty  is  only  to  be 
found  in  this  stratum  ;  and  as  it  is  inequality  which 
causes  stasis,  the  encouragement  or  increase  of  this 
middle  class  should  be  the  most  valuable  means  of 
averting  it.  "  Every  State  would,  if  it  could,  be 
composed  of  men  who  are  equal ; "  this  is  the 
natural  instinct  of  the  State,  and  it  is  best  realised 
where  the  middle  class  is  strong.  And  this  instinct 
is  indeed  a  natural  one;  for  a  total  loss  of  propor- 
tion in  the  distribution  of  wealth  is  at  once  recog- 

1  Politics,  1309  B  ;  cf.  1296  A. 


262  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

nised  as  unnatural.  Where  capital  and  labour  face 
each  other  menacingly,  there  can  be  no  stability ; 
where  wealth  is  evenly  distributed  there  will  be  no 
cause  of  quarrel,  no  desire  to  upset  existing  institu- 
tions.-^ Aristotle's  preventive,  it  will  be  noticed,  is 
much  the  same  as  that  of  the  modern  Socialist, 
whose  theory  is  simply  built  upon  this  instinct  for 
proportion ;  but  there  is  a  difference  both  in  the 
object  and  in  the  method.  Aristotle's  object  is  to 
preserve  the  State  and  its  constitution,  while  that 
of  the  Socialist  (in  spite  of  his  name)  is  to  make 
the  individual  more  comfortable.  With  the  one  the 
State  is  the  chief  end,  with  the  other  it  is  only  a 
means.  And  again,  Aristotle,  always  true  to  the 
facts  of  life,  not  forcing  them  by  indulging  in  ideals, 
recommends  a  reasonable  and  practicable  policy 
which  was  within  the  reach  of  any  Greek  states- 
man ;  while  Socialistic  writers,  exaggerating  both 
the  evil  and  its  remedy,  are  often  apt  to  forget  that 
what  can  be  done  must  be  done  by  statesmen,  and 
that  no  statesman  will  ever  be  found  to  risk  his 
reputation  on  an  ideal.^ 

The  other  chief  remedy  which  Aristotle  suggests 
is  Education ;  this  he  considered  so  important  that 
he  3evoted  a  whole  book  to  it,  of  which,  unfor- 
tunately, only  a  portion  has  come  down  to  us.^ 
From  this  fragment,  however,  as  well  as  from  what 
he  says  elsewhere,  we  can  see  that  his  idea  of 
education  differed  essentially  from  ours ;   and  it  is 

^  Compare  Thucyd.  iii.  82,  19  ;  quoted  above,  p.  256. 

2  Cf.  Sir  T.  More's  Utopia,  last  words. 

^  Politics,  book  viii.  (v.  in  Cougreve's  edition),  p.  1337  A  foil. 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  263 

important    to    note    this     carefully.       As    in     his 
doctrine  of  the  middle  class,  it  is  not  the  benefit 
of   the    individual    as    such    that    is  in   his  mind 
when  he  deals  with  education,  but  the_benefit  of 
the   State^  as   the   only  means  whereby  the   indi- 
vidual can  reach  his  full  mental  stature.     This  is 
quite  in  keeping  with  his  view  of  the  State  as  a 
whole,  and  that  view  was  founded  upon  the  essential . 
facts  of  Greek  life.     Preserve  the.  Sta,te.  and  you  \ 
will  keep  the  conditions  under  which  man  can  best  | 
develop  himself;  and  to  preserve  each   State,  you  ' 
must  keep  up  the  institutions  which   have  grown 
with   it   and   are   most   natural  to  it.     Education,   U 
then^  5^3st  be  subordinated  to  the  character  (77^09) 
of _  the  State,;  the  citizen  must  be  brought  up,  not  ^ 
by  a  code  abstractedly  good  for  human  nature,  but  by    ' 
one  which  is  based  on  the  traditions  and  feehng  of 
his  forefathers.     And  this  is  how  Aristotle  comes  to 
be  able  to  claim  education  as  one  great  and  direct 
preventive  of  stasis.      He  does  not   look  on  it  so 
much    as    a    process    which    makes    virtuous    and 
sensible    men,   but    as    one    which    creates   in   the 
oligarch  or  democrat  the  true   spirit   of   the   best 
oligarchy    and    democracy    of    which    his    city    is    i 
capable.     He  might  have  used  the  pregnant  expres- 
sion of  Herodotus  to  which  I  have  so  often  referred, 
and  have  said  that  while  no  citizen  has  a  right  to 
step  outside  his  elmOora  vorjfiara,  he  should  have 
every  opportunity  of  making  the   best   of  himself 
within  those  traditional  limits.     Education,  in  his 
view,    should    produce    rhythm   and   order   in   the 
State,  by  tending  to  subordinate  all  citizens  to  the 


264  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


same  end  in  life — the  fulfilment  of  the  "  good  life  " 
of  the  State/ 

These,  then,  are  Aristotle's  two  prescriptions  for 
stasis ;  the  mean  in  the  distribution  of  wealth,  and 
education  directed  to  the  true  end  of  the  State.  It 
would  be  tempting  to  go  one  step  further,  and  to 
compare  these  maxims  with  the  actual  facts  of 
Greek  life ;  but  my  object  is  not  so  much  to  set 
out  on  a  task  of  this  kind  as  to  suggest  that  it 
should  be  attempted.  Every  student  of  Greek  or 
Eoman  history  who  will  bear  in  mind  these  Aris- 
totelian principles,  and  apply  them  as  criteria  as  he 
advances  in  his  study,  will  not  only  find  his  work 
become  more  interesting  and  instructive,  but  will 
gain  a  deeper  insight  into  the  problems  of  social 
and  national  life,  at  all  times  and  in  every  kind  of 
State.  I  will  content  myself  by  taking  a  single 
State,  and  that  the  greatest  of  all  City-States,  and 
briefly  testing  it  by  these  criteria  in  the  days  when 
it  was  most  sorely  afllicted  by  stasis. 

"We  have  as  yet  seen  Eome  only  in  the  days  of 
her  growth  and  her  prosperity,  overcoming  perils  of 
faction  and  perils  of  war  by  her  political  good 
sense  and  her  tenacity  of  purpose,  and  working  up 
to  a  certain  perfection  of  government, — not  the  best 
form  of  government  (for  oligarchy  can  never  be 
the  best),  but  one  well  adapted,  when  used  in  a 
moderate  spirit,  to  carry  out  those  ends  for  which 
Eome  seemed  destined.  We  left  her  towards  the 
end  of  the  sixth  century  of  her  existence,  at  the 
time   when   Polybius   was   describing   her  political 

1  Politics,  1337  A  ;  cf.  1332  A. 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  265 

system  with  admiration  and  awe,  little  dreaming  of 
the  troubles  that  were  to  come  upon  her,  and 
apparently  blind  to  the  social  rottenness  lying 
beneath  the  imposing  structure  of  her  constitution. 
Within  a  few  years  after  Polybius  recorded  his 
observations,  Eome  was  torn  asunder  by  stasis, 
which  under  varying  phases  lasted  for  a  whole 
century,  and  brought  with  it  evils  as  terrible  and  as 
weakening  as  those  described  by  Thucydides. 

The  revolution  begun  by  Tiberius  Gracchus  in 
133  B.C.  cannot  indeed  be  aptly  compared  to  the  little 
storms,  furious  as  they  sometimes  were,  which 
raged  in  the  small  City-States  of  the  Greeks. '  No 
sooner  do  we  try  to  probe  to  the  bottom  this  great 
stasis  of  Eome,  than  we  find  it  complicated  by  so 
many  side-issues,  and  by  problems  so  vast  in  their 
reach  and  complexity,  that  we  instinctively  feel 
ourselves  passing  into  a  new  region  of  politics,  in 
which,  if  we  are  to  judge  fairly,  we  must  adjust 
our  judgment  by  some  other  standard  than  that  of 
the  TToXfc?. 

But  it  is  true  indeed  that  this  stasis  sprang,  as 
Aristotle  says  all  such  quarrels  will,  from  inequality 
and  fronj^  inequality  i^L^^j^  disljibutjon  of  wealth  ; 
in  its  first  beginning  it  can  be  treated  as  the 
stasis  of  a  City-State.  The  oligarchy  which  had 
been  so  long  in  power,  and  had  steered  Eome 
through  so  many  perils,  had  also  slowly  absorbed 
the  land  of  the  State ;  to  inequality  in  power  they 
added  inequahty  of  wealth,  and  the  "  people,"  ac- 
customed to  have  their  affairs  managed  by  trustees 
in  whom   they  placed   implicit    confidence,   tacitly 


266  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


acquiesced  in  this  state  of  things,  and  let  the 
dangerous  process  go  on  unheeded.  When  at  last 
the  counter-claim  is  made  by  Tiberius  Gracchus, — the 
claim  of  the  many  for  equality  in  wealth, — stasis  at 
once  sprang  up.  The  oligarchy  found  their  material 
interests  assailed,  and  naturally  used  their  constitu- 
tional advantages  to  defend  them ;  Gracchus,  in 
attacking  their  possessions,  found  it  necessary  also 
to  attack  their  political  fortress.  He  tried  to  put 
the  oligarchical  Senate  aside,  and  to  call  to  life 
again  the  dormant  sovereignty  of  the  people :  and 
if  he  had  stopped  there,  no  serious  harm  need  have 
been  done.  But  he  was  tempted  to  break  other 
sacred  traditions  of  a  revered  constitution,  and  in 
his  hurry  and  enthusiasm  he  put  himself  in  the 
position  of  a  tyrant ;  and  he  paid  for  his  rashness 
with  his  life.  "  Ubi  semel  recto  deerratum  est,  in 
praeceps  pervenitur." 

So  far  we  seem  to  see  no  more  than  the 
phenomena  which  Aristotle  described.  But  trace 
the  revolution  a  little  further,  and  we  find  ourselves 
getting  beyond  the  limits  of  the  City-State,  and  of 
the  political  reasoning  of  its  philosophers.  The 
interests  involved  are  not  merely  those  of  Eome 
and  her  citizens — the  whole  population  of  Italy  has 
a  claim  to  make ;  a  claim  to  share  in  the  advan- 
tages of  Eoman  citizenship,  analogous  to  that  of  the 
plebeians  in  days  gone  by,  but  infinitely  more  far- 
reaching  in  its  importance  to  Eome  and  to  the 
world.  The  dependencies  which  Eome  has  subdued 
have  also  their  claim ;  not  yet  a  claim  for  citizen- 
ship,  but    a   claim   to   be    governed    equitably,   to 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  267 

retain  the  material  means  of  development  and 
prosperity,  and  to  be  adequately  protected  against 
the  threatening  attacks  of  barbarian  enemies.  Such 
claims  created  problems  for  the  Eoman  statesman 
such  as  no  ttoXltt]^  had  ever  yet  had .  to  solve,  and 
such  as  had  never  yet  been  dreamed  of  in  the  philo- 
sophy of  the  TToXt?.  And  we  must  leave  them  for 
the  present,  for  they  have  no  direct  connection  with 
those  internal  causes  of  decay  which  are  the  subject 
of  this  chapter.  I  shall  return  to  them  in  the 
next,  and  show  how  they  arose  as  the  result  mainly 
of  another  set  of  disintegrating  agencies,  which  we 
may  call  external ;  and  in  my  last  chapter  I  shall 
endeavour  to  explain  how  they  were  finally  solved. 

But  if  Aristotle's  philosophy  of  political  life  did 
not  embrace  such  problems  as  those  of  the  Eoman 
Empire,  we  may  still  ask  how  far  the  preventives 
which  he  prescribes  for  stasis  had  been  adopted  or 
could  have  been  acted  on  at  Eome.  Did  the 
senatorial  government,  that  focus  of  all  Eoman  ex- 
perience and  wisdom,  seek  to  maintain  a  vigorous 
and  comfortable  middle  class ;  and  did  they  pay 
any  attention  to  the  problem  of  education,  or  en- 
deavour to  have  the  sons  of  Eome  brought  up  in 
harmony  with  the  best  traditions  and  the  growing 
needs  of  the  State  ? 

We  saw  that  Eome  won  her  position  as  a  leading 
city  in  Italy  by  the  steady  obedience  and  devotion 
of  her  army  of  freeholders.  The  Servian  census 
reveals  beyond  doubt  a  middle  class  such  as 
Aristotle  thought  the  best  for  a  healthy  state — a 
middle    class    of    agriculturists ;     and     this     class 


268  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

continued  to  exist,  if  not  always  to  flourish,  in  the 
first  two  centuries  of  the  Eepublic,  and  was  also 
largely  recruited  from  populations  conquered  and 
absorbed.  But  during  those  same  centuries  we 
find  a  process  at  work  which  is  incompatible  with 
the  permanent  maintenance  of  that  middle  class, 
and  which  no  legislation  seemed  capable  of  effectu- 
ally checking.  The  land  of  Italy  is  in  this  period 
slowly  and  surely  passing  into  the  hands  of  wealthy 
Eomans,  plebeian  as  much  as  patrician ;  and  as 
cattle-breeding  pays  better  than  tillage,  and  winter 
pasture  is  needed  for  the  vast  herds  which  occupy 
the  higher  lands  in  summer,  the  small  freeholder  of 
the  valleys  is  gradually  got  rid  of  by  fair  means  or 
foul,  and  his  land  absorbed  into  the  great  man's 
estate.  Nor  is  he  even  maintained  as  a  day- 
labourer,  or  allowed,  like  the  Lacedaemonian 
Helot,  to  till  the  land  in  return  for  a  proportion 
of  its  fruits ;  for  all  that  was  needed  could  be  done 
by  slaves  at  a  much  smaller  expense ;  and  slaves 
were  cheap,  owing  to  the  vast  number  of  prisoners 
taken  in  the  endless  wars.  Nothing  was  left  for 
the  freeholders  of  the  middle  class,  who  had  once 
been  the  very  marrow  of  the  State,  but  to  take 
refuge  in  Eome  itself.  There  they  could  not  be 
suffered  actually  to  starve,  for  they  were  still 
wanted  for  the  wars ;  and  there,  too,  they  enjoyed 
the  privilege  of  exercising  their  rights  as  Eonian 
citizens.  But  they  no  longer  represented  Aristotle's 
TO  fiecrop,  and  they  had  no  longer  the  virtues 
of  the  agricultural  class  which  he  would  have  en- 
couraged.    They   were  idle   and    poverty-stricken, 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  269 

like  the  "  mean  whites  "  of  the  Southern  States  of 
America  before  the  emancipation  of  the  negroes ; 
and  they  came  at  last  to  have  all  the  vices  of  an 
idle  proletariat  in  a  great  city.  Thus  the  middle 
__class  of  the  Eoman  State  disappeared,  and  with  its 
disappearance  came  in  due  time  the  inevitable 
stasis.  Efforts  were  made  from  time  to  time  to 
stay  the  growing  evil,  but  it  could  not  be  effectually 
stayed  except  by  interfering  with  the  property  of 
the  ruling  class,  or  by  doing  away  with  their  system 
of  slave-labour.  It  was  to  the  oligarchy  that  the 
disease  was  due,  and  it  could  not  be  cured  so  long 
as  the  oligarchy  was  in  power. 

And  lastly,  how  far  were  the  Eomans  conscious 
of  Aristotle's  other  safeguard  ?  Did  they  bring  up 
their  children  on  any  system  suited  to  maintain  the 
character  of  their  State,  or  capable  of  growing  with 
it  as  it  grew  ? 

In  the  youth  of  Eome  there  had  been  an 
education  of  unquestionable  value,  through  which 
all  citizens  passed ;  not  an  education  of  the  mind, 
but  an  education  of  the  will  and  of  the  body,  weU 
suited,  like  that  of  Sparta,  to  preserve  the  r)6o<;  of 
the  State,  and  adequate  to  carry  it  through  all  its 
early  perils.  This  was  the  education  of  the  patria 
potestas,  supplemented  by  the  discipline  of  military 
training  and  service.  Every  Eoman  son,  what- 
ever his  age  might  be,  was  under  the  strictest 
control  of  his  father ;  his  very  life  was  always  in 
the  hands  of  him  to  whom  he  originally  owed  it. 
When  called  to  arms,  he  was  equally  under  discip- 
line; for  the  dread  imperium    of   the  consul  was 


270  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

unlimited  in  the  field,  and  the    refractory  soldier 
could  be  punished  with  instant  death. 

Such  an  education  of  obedience,  stern  and  rude 
as  it  seems  to  us,  was  of  infinite  value  to  the 
Romans  in  the  career  for  which  they  were  marked 
out,  for,  as  Mr.  Bagehot  has  so  emphatically  put  it, 
the  people  that  can  obey  is  the  fittest  to  survive,  j 
And  it  would  still  have  been  of  value,  though  alone 
it  could  not  have  been  wholly  adequate,  even  when 
Eome  had  passed  beyond  the  limits  of  the  City- 
State,  and  entered  on  new  duties  and  responsibilities  ; 
just  as  our  own  public  school  education,  though  not 
highly  intellectual  for  the  majority  of  boys  who  pass 
through  it,  is  yet  a  discipline  excellently  well  suited 
to  the  needs  of  a  great  empire.  For  a  people 
whose  lot  is  to  conquer  and  to  rule,  an  education  of 
the  will  and  of  the  body  is  indispensable,  though 
it  is  not  all  that  is  needed. 

But  by  the  time  when  stasis  first  began  to  be 
formidable  at  Rome,  even  this  excellent  training 
was  no  longer  what  it  had  been.  Like  so  many 
other  Roman  institutions,  the  patria  potestas  sur- 
vived, but  had  lost  its  old  virtue;  the  form  of 
it  remained,  but  the  spirit  had  vanished.  The 
discipline  of  military  life  was  also  fast  becoming 
weaker :  the  best  generals  of  this  age,  such  as 
Scipio  the  Younger,  Metellus,  and  Marius,  had  as 
much  trouble  with  their  troops  as  with  the  enemy. 
And  with  the  old  education  thus  breaking  down, 
Rome  had  to  meet  an  entirely  new  set  of  responsi- 
bilities. The  whole  end  of  her  existence  had 
changed  by  the  close  of  the  sixth  century, — to  keep 


IX 


DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  271 


to  Aristotelian  language,  the  ep^yov  of  the  State  was 
no  longer  the  same  as  in  her  youth.  She  had 
resisted  enemies  and  conquered  them;  but  she  had 
now  to  organise  and  rule  them,  to  develop  their 
resources  and  to  Eomanise  them,  and  to  do  this 
work  with  justice  as  well  as  force.  What  educa- 
tion had  she  now,  to  fit  her  to  cope  with  such  a 
task  as  this  ? 

A  new  education  had  indeed  come  into  fashion, 
and  one  of  a  more  intellectual  type ;  but  it  was 
wholly  inadequate  to  meet  the  demands  which  the 
world  was  now  making  on  the  Eoman.  The  young 
man  now  learnt  rhetoric,  chiefly  from  Greeks,  and 
from  Greeks  of  a  degenerate  age ;  he  learnt  the  art 
of  making  black  look  like  white,  and  of  reconciling 
consciences  to  what  they  inwardly  feel  to  be  wrong. 
Ehetoric  might  be  supplemented  by  philosophy,  bu.t 
even  this  was  not  of  a  character  to  train  the  mind 
and  will  to  just  and  generous  action.  The  teachers 
of  childhood  were  for  the  most  part  slaves,  and  the 
tutors  of  youth  were  Greek  rhetoricians ;  from 
neither  was  it  to  be  expected  that  the  Eoman  could 
be  trained  in  virtue  and  self-restraint.  And  as  the 
temptations  of  the  age  were  manifold,  the  Eoman 
character  utterly  gave  way ;  the  characteristics  of 
the  period  of  the  revolution  are  want  of  principle, 
unbridled  selfishness,  recklessness,  and  cruelty,  in  all 
classes.  We  need  not  be  surprised  that  stasis, 
when  it  came,  raged  with  such  bitterness  and  for 
so  long,  for  the  State  was  left  without  any  safeguard 
to  avert  it  or  to  modify  it. 

I  cannot  forbear  from  concluding  this  chapter 


272  THE  CITY-STATE  Ohap. 

with  a  passage  from  Plutarch's  life  of  Cato  the 
Elder,  in  which  he  describes  the  education  given  to 
his  son  by  a  man  who  was  enlightened  as  well  as 
austere.  It  was  an  exception  to  the  general  rule> 
and  had  it  been  generally  imitated,  the  history  of 
the  later  Eepublic  might  have  been  very  different. 

"  As  soon  as  the  dawn  of  understanding  appeared,  Cato 
took  upon  himself  tlie  office  of  schoolmaster  to  his  son, 
though  he  had  a  slave  named  Chilo,  who  was  a  respectable 
grammarian  and  taught  several  other  children.  But  he  did 
not  choose  (he  tells  us)  that  his  son  should  be  reprimanded 
by  a  slave,  or  pulled  by  the  ears  if  he  happened  to  be  slow 
in  learning  ;  or  that  he  should  be  indebted  to  so  mean  a 
person  for  his  education.  He  was  therefore  himself  his 
preceptor  in  grammar,  in  law,  and  in  the  necessary  exercises. 
For  he  taught  him  not  only  how  to  throw  a  dart,  to  fight 
hand  to  hand,  and  to  ride  ;  but  to  box,  to  endure  heat  and 
cold,  and  to  swim  in  the  roughest  and  most  rapid  parts  of 
the  river.  He  wrote  histories  for  him,  he  further  ac- 
quaints us,  with  his  own  hand  in  large  characters ;  so  that, 
without  stirring  out  of  his  father's  house,  he  might  gain  a 
knowledge  of  the  illustrious  actions  of  the  ancient  Romans, 
and  of  the  customs  of  his  country.  And  he  was  as  careful  not 
to  utter  an  indecent  word  before  his  son,  as  he  would  have 
been  in  the  presence  of  the  Vestal  virgins."  ^ 

This  is  the  older  Eoman  education  at  its  very 
best,  fulfilling  entirely  the  Aristotelian  condition 
that  the  object  of  education  should  be  to  make  the 
best  of  every  individual  in  order  to  preserve  the 
^^09  of  the  State.  Nothing  is  said  in  it  of  learning 
Greek ;  and  we  know  from  this  same  biography 
how  bitterly  Cato  distrusted  the  growing  influence 
of  Greek  rhetoric  on  the  young  Eoman.      But  Eome 

^  Plutarch,  Cato  major,  eli.  xx. 


IX  DECAY  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  273 

was  now  ceasing  to  be  a  true  City-State,  and  to 
have  an  rj6o<i  of  her  own  in  which  she  could  train 
up  her  sons ;  and  Cato  was  hardly  in  his  grave 
when  the  new  education  began  to  gain  ground,  a 
mixture  of  Eoman  and  Greek  culture,  less  valid  for 
public  and  private  morality,  but  more  in  harmony 
with  the  life  of  a  State  which  had  absorbed  all 
other  States  into  one  far-reaching  dominion.  We 
might  almost  say  that  Cato's  life  and  precepts  are 
the  last,  and  not  the  meanest,  fruit  ever  produced 
by  the  ancient  form  of  polity. 


CHAPTER  X 

EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY 

In  the  last  chapter  we  made  a  rapid  survey  of  the 
operation  of  stasis,  as  the  most  striking  agent  of 
disintegration  in  the  life  of  the  City-State.  We  saw 
that  under  the  influence  of  this  disease,  which  may 
be  described  as  internal,  organic,  and  natural  to  this 
form  of  State,  unity  of  feeling  and  of  action  tended 
to  disappear,  and  that  with  it  vanished  also  much 
of  that  youthful  health  and  beauty  which  we 
associate  with  all  that  is  Greek  in  the  best  days 
of  Greece. 

But  there  were  other  causes  of  decay  at  work, 
which  for  want  of  a  better  word  we  may  call 
external ;  causes,  that  is,  which  did  not  spring  so 
directly  from  the  inner  life  and  the  true  nature 
of  the  City-State  as  such.  These  were  influences 
acting  from  without  upon  that  inner  being  of  the 
m-oXi^,  modifying  it  and  even  distorting  it,  and 
often  combining  with  stasis  to  destroy  it  altogether. 
In  order  to  make  it  plain  what  these  external 
influences  were,  I  must   revert   for  a  moment  to 


CHAP.  X      EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY         275 

the  distinction  between  the  ancient  and  the  modern 
form  of  State  which  was  explained  in  the  first 
chapter. 

The  ancient  form  of  State  was  there  described 
as  a  city  with  an  adjunct  of  territory ;  the  citizens 
being  really  members  of  a  City-Community,  not 
merely  inhabitants  of  a  territory  which  happens 
to  have  a  convenient  capital  town.  From  this 
definition  it  follows  that  the  true  City-State  should 
not  have  too  large  a  territory;  for  the  larger  the 
territory,  the  less  truly  would  the  inhabitants 
realise  their  membership  of  the  City -Community. 
Men  living  at  a  great  distance  from  the  city,  which 
was  the  heart  and  life  of  the  State,  could  not  share 
adequately  in  that  life,  or  feel  the  pulse -beat  of 
the  organism  to  which  they  belonged.  They  would 
be  apt  to  develop  interests  of  their  own  apart 
from  their  interests  as  members  of  the  State ;  and 
thus  the  essential  fact  of  the  true  life  of  the  TroXt?, 
the  identification  of  the  individual  with  the  State, 
would  be  less  completely  realised  in  their  case. 
It  follows,  too,  that  there  must  be  a  limit  to  the 
population  of  a  City-State ;  for  a  large  territory 
is  necessary  as  a  rule  to  a  large  population,  and 
if  the  one  is  unsuited  for  the  reahsation  of  perfect 
unity,  so  also  will  the  other  be. 

The  size  of  its  territory  and  population  was  thus 
a  very  important  question  for  every  City-State,  and 
as  we  should  naturally  expect,  Aristotle  was  well 
aware  of  this.  When  he  is  considering  the  ex- 
ternal features  of  his  ideal  State,  e.g.  its  geographical 
position,  and  the  conditions  under  which  it  will  be 


276  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

and  remain  free  and  self-sufficing,  and  adequate  in 
every  respect  for  its  population,  he  also  discusses  the 
question  of  its  size  and  the  proper  limits  of  its  in- 
crease.    The  gist  of  what  he  says  is  as  follows  :  ^ — 

There  is  a  certain  limit  of  size,  he  tells  us 
beyond  which  the  TroXt?  ceases  to  be  at  its  best; 
though  many  Greeks  erroneously  believe  that  the 
greater  the  population  and  territory,  the  greater 
will  the  State  be.  Experience  shows  that  the  best 
governed  States  are  not  the  largest ;  in  a  very  large 
State,  for  example,  we  shall  not  find  law  working 
with  the  best  result.  Law  is  a  kind  of  order,  and 
good  law  is  good  order ;  but  a  very  great  multitude 
cannot  be  orderly,  at  least  without  the  aid  of  some 
divine  power  such  as  that  which  orders  the  whole 
universe.  States  are  like  animals  and  plants,  and 
even  like  products  of  human  art,  such  as  tools  or 
ships,  in  that  they  cannot  exceed  a  certain  size 
without  either  losing  their  true  nature,  or  at  least 
without  being  spoilt  for  use.  Where,  then,  is  this 
limit  of  size  to  be  found  ?  What  test  can  we  apply 
to  a  State  in  order  to  discover  whether  it  has  grown 
beyond  its  proper  and  natural  size  ? 

The  answer  which  Aristotle  makes  to  these 
questions  is  at  first  sight  a  most  singular  one ; 
but  it  is  all  the  more  significant  of  the  true  nature 
of  the  TToXt?.  "  The  true  limit  of  the  population 
of  a  State  is  the  largest  number  which  suffices  for 
the  [higher]  purposes  of  life,  and  which  can  he  taken 
in  at  a  single  view"  ^     Just  as  the  iroXi^  begins 

1  Politics,  1326  A  and  B. 

2  "  S^Xov  Tolvvv  ws  o5rds  i<TTL  iroXews  6pos  dpiaros,  i]  fxeyiarr}  tov 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        277 

truly  to  exist  when  it  is  sufficiently  large  to  realise 
the  good  life, — when  it  rises  beyond  the  mere  life 
of  the  village  to  the  higher  life  of  the  State, — so 
it  ceases  to  be  a  useful  and  beautiful  State  when 
it  is  too  large  to  be  easily  taken  in  by  the  eye 
and  mind  of  its  members.  And  Aristotle  is  not 
writing  vaguely  or  loosely  here ;  he  means  some- 
thing definite,  as  he  invariably  does.  He  tells  us 
in  the  same  passage  that  the  citizens  ought  to  know 
each  other's  characters,  if  they  are  to  decide  suits 
and  to  elect  magistrates  wisely ;  and  also  that  they 
ought  to  be  able  to  recognise  foreign  visitors  and 
residents  readily,  so  as  to  keep  them  outside  of 
their  own  citizen-body,  and  to  maintain  their  pure 
State  character  undeteriorated. 

Aristotle  is  here,  as  usual  in  the  Politics,  only 
reflecting  the  normal  phenomena  of  Greek  political 
life ;  he  is  discarding  the  exceptional  and  (as  he 
would  call  them)  the  unnatural  tendencies  of  many 
States,  and  especially  of  the  great  commercial  cities, 
such  as  the  Athens  of  his  day,  and  many  of  the 
gi'eat  Greek  colonies.  He  is  picturing  an  ideal 
State,  but  he  is  copying  its  features  from  those  of 
the  Greek  7ro\t9  in  its  most  typical  form,  indulging 
its  most  natural  instincts.  The  true  TroXt?  was, 
as  we  have  seen,  an  independent  and  self-sufficing 
organism ;  it  had  its  own  tone  and  character,  which 
its  system  of  education  was  to  keep  up ;   and  for 

irXTTidovs  virepPoXr)  irpbs  adrapKeiav  ^wJys  evaOvoTTTOS."  Politics,  iv. 
(vii.)  4  fin.  I  have  ventured  to  insert  the  word  "higher"  in 
quoting  Professor  Jowett's  translation  ;  see  Mr.  Newman's  remarks 
on  this  chapter,  in  his  first  vohime,  pp.  313,  314. 


278  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

this  to  be  realised  at  its  best,  the  citizen  body  must 
be  maintained  of  pure  descent,  and  should  be  always 
ready  to  appear  on  the  scene  of  State  action  in  the 
market-place  of  the  city  itself  The  best  example 
of  such  a  State  was  perhaps  to  be  found  in  Sparta. 
Though  Sparta  violated  some  of  the  best  Greek 
instincts,  though  her  "  good  life "  was  not  of  the 
finest  quality,  yet  in  outward  form  and  in  the 
steady  maintenance  of  her  peculiar  character,  Sparta 
is  a  genuine  City -State;  and  for  this  reason  she 
often  attracted  the  attention  and  admiration  of 
reflecting  Greeks.  The  same  may  also  be  said  of 
Eome  in  the  earlier  stages  of  her  history. 

Now  it  is  essential  to  notice  the  two  principal 
ways  in  which  Aristotle's  limit  of  size  could  be 
exceeded,  in  order  to  understand  how  the  City- 
State  gradually  came  to  suffer  and  to  decay  from 
external  causes  as  well  as  internal.  In  the  first 
place,  it  is  obvious  that  if  a  State  grew  too  large 
and  powerful,  and  came  to  subordinate  other  States 
to  itself,  a  twofold  result  would  follow.  The  domi- 
nant State  would  be  liable  to  lose  its  old  State 
character,  having  to  face  new  duties  and  responsi- 
bilities outside  its  natural  sphere  of  action.  And 
the  conquered  States  would  lose  their  true  existence 
as  TToXet?,  being  no  longer  self-sufficing  and  self- 
governing,  and  having  in  fact  no  longer  any  definite 
State  character  to  maintain.  They  would  resemble 
a  fading  photograph,  whose  colour  changes,  and 
whose  outlines  lose  their  sharpness.  Thus  imperial 
States,  in  which  one  city  rules  a  number  of  others, 
were  clearly  not  contemplated  in  Aristotle's  political 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        279 

reasonings ;  they  could  not,  in  his  view,  realise  the 
best  life,  and  might  do  permanent  harm  to  States  in 
which  that  best  life  flourished. 

There  is  also  another  kind  of  State  which  Aris- 
totle does  not  take  into  account ;  this  is  the  federa- 
tion or  union  of  States  with  each  other  on  equal 
terms  under  a  common  central  government.^  In  a 
true  federation  this  common  central  government  has 
some  definite  controlling  influence  over  the  gover- 
ments  of  the  several  States  composing  the  union ; 
each  of  these  therefore  will  have  given  up  some 
part  of  its  own  independence  in  order  to  obtain  the 
benefits  of  union,  confessing,  as  it  were,  that  it  is  not 
strong  enough  to  stand  and  flourish  by  itself.^  Now 
it  will  be  at  once  obvious  that  a  union  of  this 
kind,  sufticiently  centralised  to  be  called  a  State  in 
itself  as  distinct  from  its  component  units,  like 
the  United  States  of  America,  or  the  present  Swiss 
federation,  must  have  been  wholly  out  of  harmony 
with  the  instincts  of  the  free  and  self-sufficing  City- 
State ;  and  in  fact  it  is  not  probable  that  such  a 
federation  ever  existed  in  Greece  until  the  best 
days  of  Greek  life  were  over.  In  Greece  the  City- 
State  seems  to  have  had  a  peculiar  repugnance  to 
this  form  of  union.  The  Greeks  felt  instinctively 
that  by  entering  into  such  federations  each  izoXi^ 
would  lose  its  own  pecuHar  tone  and  character,  its 

^  The  only  passage  whieli  can  be  construed  into  an  allusion  to 
such  a  federation  is  in  Politics,  iv.  (vii.)  7,  3,  1327  B  ;  and  here 
it  is  onl}'-  spoken  of  as  a  necessary  condition  of  Hellenic  rule  over 
barbarians,  not  as  desirable  for  Hellas  itself. 

^  See  the  most  recent  discussion  of  this  question  in  Sidg^vick's 
Elements  of  Politics,  ch.  xxvi. 


280  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

lively  interest  in  its  own  political  affairs,  or  even 
the  efficacy  and  importance  of  its  own  religious 
worships ;  a  feeling  inherited  from  the  time  when 
international  relations,  as  we  call  them,  hardly 
existed,  and  when  the  citizen  of  each  State  was  a 
total  stranger  and  practically  an  enemy  to  the 
citizen  of  every  other. 

Yet  it  is  most  interesting  to  notice,  as  we  pursue 
the  history  of  the  City-State  century  by  century, 
that  our  attention  is  drawn  more  and  more  to  the 
appearance  both  of  imperial  and  federative  States. 
The  two  forms  were  in  Greece  very  closely  con- 
nected together;  for  federations  either  came  into 
existence  to  resist  encroaching  cities,  or  they  them- 
selves were  slowly  but  surely  converted  into  im- 
perial States.  In  these  tendencies  we  cannot  fail 
to  see  evidence  of  the  fading  individuality  of  the 
true  City -State;  we  see  it  passing  under  new 
conditions  of  life,  which  in  Aristotle's  view  and  in 
that  of  the  ordinary  Greek  of  the  best  age  were 
incompatible  with  its  existence  in  perfection,  and 
with  the  "  good  life  "  of  its  individual  members. 

In  order,  then,  to  gain  some  idea  of  the  external 
causes,  as  I  have  called  them,  which  enfeebled  and 
finally  destroyed  the  City-State,  our  plan  will  be  to 
take  a  rapid  survey  of  the  growth  of  federative  and 
imperial  States  from  the  sixth  century  B.C.  onwards  ; 
and  this  is  what  I  propose  to  do  in  the  remainder 
of  this  chapter.  Such  a  sketch  must  necessarily  be 
very  cursory  and  imperfect,  but  it  may  be  sufficient 
to  mark  out  the  ground  for  more  elaborate  studies, 
and  to  give  them  a  definite  meaning  and  object.     It 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        281 

will  be  convenient  to  divide  the  history  of  Greece 
for  this  purpose  into  three  periods — 

1.  Before  the  Persian  wars. 

2.  From  the  Persian  wars  to  the  rise  of  Macedon. 

3.  From  the  rise  of  Macedon  to  the  final  conquest 
by  Eome. 

1.  Down  to  the  time  of  the  Persian  wars  it  may 
be  said  that  though  we  find  here  and  there  a  league  or 
alliance,  the  TroXet?  composing  them  remained  pohti- 
cally  independent.  There  were  ancient  alliances, 
for  example,  for  the  protection  of  a  temple  and  its 
worship.  Of  these  the  most  famous  is  the  Amphic- 
tionic  League  for  the  protection  of  the  temples  of 
Apollo  at  Thermopylge  and  Delphi,  and  for  the 
carrying  out  of  Apollo's  precepts  for  the  con- 
duct of  the  several  members  towards  each  other. 
But  this  was  in  no  true  sense  a  union  of  TroXet? ; 
it  was  one  of  races, — Dorians,  Achteans,  Malians, 
etc.,  and  probably  dates  from  an  age  before  the  full 
development  of  the  City-State.  On  the  pohtics  of 
a  later  age  it  has  only  an  incidental  influence,  and 
does  not  call  for  further  consideration  here.  It  was 
a  civilising  and  a  unifying  influence,  but  not  a 
union  in  any  true  political  sense.  Other  leagues, 
originating  probably  after  the  development  of  the 
TToXt?,  are  also  found  among  the  Achaean  cities  in  the 
north  of  the  Peloponnese,  in  the  Ionic  colonies  of 
Asia  Minor,  in  Arcadia,  and  elsewhere ;  but  these 
also  were  far  from  being  permanent  political  federa- 
tions, so  far  as  our  knowledge  enables  us  to  judge. 
They  are  only  found  in  districts  inhabited  by  the 


282  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

same  stock,  and  they  indicate  "  no  inward  organic 
development  of  the  TroXi?."  ^  They  are  simply 
groups  of  independent  TroXet?  without  real  political 
cohesion.  There  was  indeed  one  league,  that  of  the 
Boeotian  cities,  which  even  in  the  sixth  century  may 
have  approached  to  the  nature  of  a  federation;  but 
our  knowledge  of  it  in  that  period  is  extremely 
scanty,  and  I  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  adverting 
to  it  later  on. 

There  were,  however,  certain  centralising  forces  at 
work  in  Greece  in  the  sixth  century,  one  at  least  of 
which  must  be  taken  into  account.  Apart  from  the 
influence  of  the  Delphic  oracle,  and  the  Olympic 
and  other  games,  which  brought  the  Greeks  into 
more  intimate  relations  with  each  other,  and  ac- 
centuated the  feeling  that  they  all  belonged  to  a 
common  race  as  distinct  from  the  "  barbarian,"  we 
have  to  notice  the  tendency  of  one  City-State  to 
assert  a  political  predominance  over  others  in  the 
direction  at  once  of  empire  and  federation.  This 
State  was  Sparta ;  the  very  one,  it  is  curious  to  note, 
which  in  the  following  century  assumed  the  position 
of  champion  of  the  free  and  self-sufficing  TroXt? 
against  another  far  more  dangerous  centralising 
power. 

By  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century,  says  Herod- 
otus, Sparta  had  subdued  the  greater  part  of  the 
Peloponnese ;  that  is,  she  was  already  mistress  of  a 

1  See  Holm,  Gesch.  Griech.  vol,  iii.  p.  511.  Such  unions  may 
have  come  into  play  only  from  time  to  time,  as  was  the  case  with 
the  "  crvyKpriTLa-fids"  of  the  Cretan  cities  ;  G.  Gilbert,  Handhuch,  ii. 
218,  and  reff. 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        283 

small  empire  (apxv)-^  S^t  this  empire,  if  indeed 
the  word  can  be  applied  to  it,  extended  only  over 
the  south  of  the  peninsula,  and  it  was  Messenia 
alone  whose  State  life  was  wholly  destroyed  by  it. 
Over  the  Peloponnese  generally  Sparta  claimed  only 
a  leadership  ('^yefiovLa),  and  this  meant  no  more 
than  the  first  place  in  a  military  alliance  of  all  the 
cities  with  the  exception  of  the  Achaeans  in  the 
north,  and  Argos,  Epidaurus,  and  Troezen  in  the 
east.  This  alliance,  it  is  true,  shows  a  certain 
tendency  towards  centralisation,  and  we  have  some 
evidence  that  Sparta  even  interfered  in  the  inter- 
nal affairs  of  the  cities  so  far  as  to  put  down  the 
tyrannies  prevalent  at  this  time.^  She  also  put 
forward  claims  to  a  leadership  of  all  Hellas,  and 
tried,  though  with  little  success,  to  meddle  with 
the  constitutions  of  States  beyond  the  Peloponnese, 
and  especially  of  Athens.  But  this  was  under 
a  king  of  remarkable  talent  and  great  energy, 
Cleomenes  1. ;  and  even  he  failed  to  secure  the 
adherence  of  the  allies  to  his  schemes  for  bring- 
ing a  tyrant  back  to  Athens.  The  story  of  this 
attempt,  as  told  by  Herodotus,  shows  plainly  enough 
how  loose  the  alliance  was,  and  how  firmly  the  idea 
of  independence  held  its  ground  even  among  the 
Peloponnesian  cities.^ 

Besides  Sparta  there  was  in  Greece  at  this  time 

1  Herod,  i.  68,  69.  Biisolt,  Lakedaimonien,  p.  245  foil.  It  is 
difficult  to  explain  this  early  aggressiveness  of  the  Spartans,  which 
ceased  to  be  characteristic  of  them  later  on. 

2  Herod,  v.  92,  2  ;  Thucyd.  i.  18. 
^  Herod,  v.  92,  93. 


284  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

but  one  other  influence  which  made  for  pohtical 
centralisation,  namely,  the  influence  of  the  great 
tyrants.  I  have  already  pointed  out  the  tendency 
of  these  to  open  up  relations  with  other  States,  and 
also  to  conquer  or  maltreat  them  for  their  own 
private  ends.  I  illustrated  this  tendency  by  the 
example  of  Polycrates,  the  mighty  master  of  Samos  ; 
and  this  Polycrates  did  actually  for  a  short  time 
acquire  something  in  the  nature  of  a  naval  empire 
over  the  islands  of  the  ^gean.^  But  tyrannies  were 
short-lived,  and  Polycrates'  dominion  fell  with  him. 
Neither  tyranny  nor  hegemony  could  force  the 
Greeks  out  of  their  chosen  path  of  autonomy,  out  of 
the  inherited  instincts — the  elcoOora  vorj^iara  of 
the  race  as  a  whole.  We  may  fairly  conclude  that 
the  whole  weight  of  Greek  feeling  was  at  this  period 
entirely  at  variance  with  all  genuine  attempts  to 
blurr  the  sharp  outlines  of  the  individual  life  of  the 
City-state. 

2.  With  the  Persian  invasions  a  new  era  begins 
in  the  external  history  of  the  City-State.  Their 
immediate  result  was  to  force  upon  Greece  a  tem- 
porary and  imperfect  union,  and  for  the  first  and 
almost  the  only  time,  a  general  congress  of  Greeks 
met  together  to  discuss  how  the  common  danger 
could  best  be  met.^  No  sooner  had  this  danger 
passed  away  than  the  unifying  forces  ceased  to 
work ;  but  the  Persian  power  has  henceforward  a 
marked  influence  on  the  political  relations  of  the 
Greeks.  The  cities  had  been  taught  that  they 
could  not  resist  such  an  enemy  without  some  kind 

1  Herod,  iii.  39.  ^  /j^  ^jj^  145, 


X  '  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        285 

of  cohesion ;  but  they  had  learnt  the  lesson  im- 
perfectly and  reluctantly.  From  this  time  onward 
we  have  two  forces  at  work  side  by  side  in  conflict 
with  each  other,  and  combining  to  wear  out  the 
vitality  of  the  individual  States.  One  of  these  is 
the  desire  of  leading  States  to  organise  confederacies 
under  pretext  of  successive  dangers  from  Persia,  or 
from  some  Greek  city  which  had  grown  too  powerful ; 
the  other  is  the  reluctance  of  the  TroXet?  to  coalesce 
into  such  unions.  These  two  forces  act  and  react 
on  each  other  throughout  the  whole  of  this  period. 

The  familiar  story  need  not  be  here  repeated 
how  Athens  and  Sparta  gradually  fell  apart  after 
Salamis,  and  how  Athens  formed  a  great  naval 
league  for  the  defence  of  the  ^Egean,  Sparta  retain- 
ing her  old  leadership  of  the  Peloponnesian  States 
and  a  few  others.  Thus  Greece  came,  to  be  split 
into  two  great  alliances ;  the  one  an  old  and  well- 
tried  institution  under  the  foremost  military  and 
aristocratic  State,  representing  the  conditions  of 
Hellenic  development  before  the  Persian  wars ;  the 
other  an  entirely  new  organisation  under  the  newly 
risen  naval  leader,  representing  that  spirit  of  popular 
intelligence  and  political  progress  which  we  have 
seen  ripening  into  the  democracy  of  Pericles. 
Neither  of  these  alliances,  however,  was  a  real  federal 
union ;  neither  had  a  common  central  government 
sufficiently  strong  to  constitute  a  State  power  in 
itself  apart  from  the  governments  of  its  component 
units.  The  keen  edge  of  true  city  life  was  not  at 
first  seriously  blunted  either  by  the  confederacy  of 
Delos  or  by  the  Peloponnesian  League.      It  might 


286  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

have  been  as  well  if  the  former  at  least  could  have 
been  established  on  a  true  federal  basis,  even  at  some 
small  expense  of  autonomy  to  the  cities ;  for  the 
direction  taken  by  the  league  was  towards  empire, 
not  federation,  and  the  Spartan  alliance  eventually 
followed  suit.  But  the  cities  would  not  readily 
unite  in  any  really  useful  or  permanent  federation, 
and  their  unwillingness  gave  the  leading  State  the 
chance  and  the  excuse  to  use  force  to  compel  them 
to  do  it.  Now  both  force  and  a  leading  State  are 
elements  unnatural  to  a  federation,  and  the  ultimate 
result  was  in  this  case  not  federation  but  an 
Athenian  empire. 

The  transformation  of  the  Delian  confederacy 
into  the  empire  of  Athens  is  thus  of  the  utmost 
importance  in  the  history  of  the  City-State.  We 
do  not  know  exactly  by  what  successive  steps  the 
change  was  brought  about,  but  we  have  sufficient 
material  to  estimate  its  nature  and  its  influence  on 
the  life  of  the  TroXet?.  To  begin  with,  we  can  gain 
a  tolerably  clear  idea  of  the  character  of  the  con- 
federacy of  Delos  from  Thucydides'  own  words  -} — 

"  Thus  the  Athenians  by  the  good- will  of  the  allies,  who 
detested  Pausanias,  obtained  the  leadership.  They  imme- 
diately fixed  which  of  the  cities  should  supply  money  and 
which  of  them  ships  for  the  war  against  the  barbarians,  the 
avowed  object  being  to  compensate  themselves  and  the  allies 
for  their  losses  by  devastating  the  king's  country.  Then 
was  first  instituted  at  Athens  the  office  of  Hellenic  treasurers 
(Hellenotamiai),  who  received  the  tribute,  for  so  the  impost 
was  termed.  The  amount  was  originally  fixed  at  460  talents. 
The  island  of  Delos  was  the  treasury,  and  the  meetings  of 

^  Thucyd.  i.  96  ;  I  quote  Jowett's  translation. 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY         287 

the  allies  were  held  in  the  temple.  At  first  the  allies  were 
independent  and  deliberated  in  a  common  assembly  under 
the  leadership  of  Athens." 

It  is  obvious  from  these  words  that  every  member 
of  the  league  was  as  free  in  all  essentials  as  before 
the  league  was  formed.  All  agreed  to  follow  a 
common  foreign  policy,  and  to  support  that  policy 
by  a  common  fund ;  but  the  treasury  was  at  the 
neutral  and  sacred  island  of  Delos,  and  though, 
administered  by  Athenian  officials,  was '  so  adminis- 
tered by  the  general  consent  of  all.  At  Delos  also 
the  representatives  of  the  cities  met  periodically, 
not  to  meddle  with  each  other's  affairs,  but  to 
deliberate  on  the  policy  of  the  whole  league.  This 
was  certainly  no  more  than  a  very  loose  form  of 
federal  union,  though  Athenian  quickness  and  vigour 
supplied  it  with  a  centralising  tendency  far  stronger 
than  that  of  any  league  which  had  yet  appeared  in 
Greece. 

But  it  was  this  very  Athenian  energy  which 
constituted  the  weak  point  in  it  as  a  federation.  The 
superior  strength  of  one  member  of  a  league  is,  as  I 
have  already  said,  a  serious  difficulty  in  the  way  of 
a  true  federal  union ;  and  in  this  case  the  ever- 
increasing  strength  of  Athens  had  its  natural  con- 
sequence. The  league  had  been  established  in  475 
B.C. ;  in  little  more  than  twenty  years  it  had  begun 
to  pass  into  an  Athenian  empire.  From  454  on- 
wards we  have  sure  evidence  of  this  in  inscribed 
documents,  apart  from  the  literary  evidence  of 
Thucydides.^  It  is  important  for  our  present  pur- 
^  For  the  nature  and  contents  of  these  documents,  see    Mr. 


288  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

pose  to  see  how  the  true  freedom  of  the  TroXet?  was 
thus  interfered  with  by  the  growing  power  of 
Athens. 

A  perfectly  independent  State  must  be  able  to 
take  its  own  way  without  hindrance  in  at  least  four 
several  departments  of  government ;  in  finance,  in 
judicial  matters,  in  the  form  of  its  constitution,  and 
in  its  foreign  policy.  If  Ireland,  for  example,  were 
wholly  independent  of  Great  Britain  in  these  four 
points,  she  would  constitute  a  separate  State. 
Now,  after  454  it  may  fairly  be  said  that  none  of 
the  members  of  the  league  were  independent  of 
Athens  in  aU  these  particulars,  and  that  some  of 
them,  at  least,  were  subject  to  her  in  all.  Let  us 
take  these  points  one  by  one. 

1.  The  common  fund  had  been  transferred  to 
Athens.  A  portion  of  the  contributions  was  paid 
into  the  Athenian  treasury ;  the  assessment  and 
administration  were  alike  in  Athenian  hands.  These 
contributions  have  therefore  practically  become  a 
tribute  paid  to  Athens.  2.  In  the  case  of  some 
cities,  at  least,  and  perhaps  of  most,  the  most  im- 
portant lawsuits  had  to  be  taken  to  Athens  for 
trial;  and  we  know  from  an  inscription  that  in 
criminal  cases  involving  death,  exile,  or  disfranchise- 
ment there  was  an  appeal  from  one  city  (Chalcis) 
to  the  Athenian  popular  courts.^  3.  Though  Athens 
did  not  usually  interfere  with  the  constitution  of  the 

Abbott's  History  of  Greece,  vol.  ii.  pp.  370  foil. ,  and  Appendix  iii.  ; 
Hicks,  GreeTc  Historical  Inscriptions,  pp.  29  foil.  ;  G.  Gilbert, 
Handbuch,  i.  402. 

1  Hicks,  op.  cit.  No.  28  fin.  p.  35. 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        289 

cities  if  they  were  obedient  and  gave  no  trouble,  she 
did  not  hesitate  to  do  so  if  she  deemed  it  advisable. 
She  seems  to  have  made  separate  treaties  with  in- 
dividual cities,  by  which  constitutions  were  set  up 
in  them  under  her  own  supervision  ;  and  these  were 
naturally  of  a  democratic  type.^  4.  As  is  evident  to 
every  reader  of  Thucydides,  the  foreign  policy  of 
the  "  allies "  was  entirely  controlled  by  Athens  ; 
and,  so  far  as  we  know,  the  synod  of  members 
which  had  originally  been  used  to  meet  at  Delos 
either  ceased  to  exist  or  fell  into  utter  insignifi- 
cance. 

It  is  plain,  then,  that  the  members  of  the  league, 
some  200  in  number,  have  ceased  to  be  City-States 
in  the  true  sense  of  the  word ;  that  they  are  no 
longer  free  and  self-sufi&cing.^  This  will  be  made 
still  more  apparent  from  the  following  clause  in  the 
extant  treaty  with  Chalcis  containing  an  oath  to 
be  taken  by  all  adult  Chalcidians  on  pain  of  dis- 
franchisement. 

"  I  will  not  revolt  from  the  people  of  the  Athenians,  in  any 
way  or  shape,  in  word  or  deed,  or  be  an  accomplice  in  revolt. 
If  any  one  revolts  I  will  inform  the  Athenians.  I  will  pay 
the  Athenians  the  tribute,  which  I  can  persuade  them  (to 
accept),  and  I  will  be  a  faithful  and  true  ally  to  the  utmost 
of  my  power.  I  will  help  and  assist  the  Athenian  people  if 
any  one  injures  them,  and  I  will  obey  their  commands,"  ^ 

1  Ti-eaties  with  Erythrae,  Miletus,  Colophon,  and  Chalcis  are 
in  part  extant.  Corp.  Inscr.  Att.  i.  9,  10,  11,  and  13  ;  iv.  22a  and 
27a  =  Hicks,  No.  28. 

-  Read,  for  example,  the  speech  of  Euphemus,  the  Athenian 
envoy  at  Syracuse,  in  Tliucyd.  vi.  82  foil. 

^  This  most  telling  document  is  translated  in  full  by  Mr.  Abbott, 
vol.  ii.  p.  345  ;  Hicks,  Greek  Historical  Inscriptions,  p.  34. 

U 


290  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

This  Athenian  empire  is  the  leading  fact  in  the 
period  we  are  dealing  with.  Though  it  made  Athens 
great  and  fruitful,  it  was  the  first  serious  blow  dealt 
at  the  life  of  the  true  TroXt?.  And  it  had  other 
results,  more  dangerous  because  more  lasting.  It 
had  the  natural  effect  of  drawing  the  members  of 
the  other  great  union  closer  together,  and  of  putting 
Sparta,  after  the  downfall  of  Athens,  into  the  posi- 
tion of  their  mistress  instead  of  their  leader.  We 
saw  that  this  Peloponnesian  league  was  formerly  a 
mere  alliance,  and  that  the  cities  were  really  autono- 
mous ;  even  in  foreign  policy  they  could  success- 
fully press  their  views  against  Sparta.  But  the 
same  change  occurred  here  as  in  the  case  of  the 
Delian  League  ;  one  State  of  overwhelming  military 
strength  made  a  fair  and  equal  alliance  impractic- 
able, when  once  that  State  had  l^een  roused  into  full 
activity.  Sparta  began  the  Peloponnesian  war  by 
demanding  autonomy  for  all  Greek  cities,  and  she/ 
ended  it  by  reducing  most  of  them  to  subjection  ; 
she  forced  oligarchies  upon  them  under  the  super- 
intendence of  Spartan  "  harmosts,"  and  by  the  aid  J 
of  Persian  satraps  compelled  them  to  follow  her 
foreign  policy.  She  was  too  rough-handed,  too 
ignorant  of  organisation,  to  elaborate  such  an  empire 
as  the  Athenian ;  but  in  most  respects  the  cities 
were  worse  off  under  this  champion  of  liberty  than 
under  the  intellectual  supremacy  of  Athens.^ 

The  remainder  of  this  period  is  occupied  with 

^  Our  knowledge  of  tlie  Spartan  Empire  is,  however,  far  less 
complete  than  of  the  Athenian  ;  see  a  discussion  of  the  evidence  in 
Holm,  Gesch.  Griech.  iii.  15  foil. 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        291 

the  formation  or  concentration  of  other  leagues,  whose 
object  was  to  put  an  end  to  Spartan  tyranny ;  ^  and 
throughout  it  we  have  the  melancholy  spectacle  o 
constant  appeal  on  all  sides  to  the  Persian  power 
for  aid.  The  cities  are  not  only  getting  accustomed 
to  the  loss  of  autonomy  at  home,  but  also  to  the  loss 
of  that  common  feeling  of  Hellenic  freedom  which 
had  sprung  independently  from  the  same  root.  A 
new  Athenian  league  arose  in  378  B.C.,  sheltered 
at  first  under  the  power  of  Persia ;  the  object  was 
opposition  to  the  tyranny  of  Sparta,  so  that  the  posi- 
tion and  policy  of  the  two  leading  States  is  now 
exactly  reversed.  In  this  union,  which  only  com- 
prised some  seventy  cities,  and  did  not  last  long,  the 
autonomy  of  each  State  was  guaranteed  by  Athens. 
She  was  leader,  but  the  contributions  of  the  allies 
were  not  called  or  considered  tribute,  and  there  was 
little  or  no  interference  with  their  internal  affairs. 
The  significance  of  this  league  is  not  great  for  our 
present  purpose ;  but  there  is  one  feature  in  it 
which  is  of  real  interest.  We  know,  not  only  from 
historians,  but  from  inscriptions,  that  the  allies 
were  represented  by  commissioners  {avvehpou)  at 
Athens.  This  is  clearly  an  attempt  to  reproduce 
the  most  significant  feature  in  the  early  constitution 
of  the  confederacy  of  Delos, — that  feature  which 
indicates  most  plainly  an  approach  to  a  real  federa- 
tion.^ 

1  Of  one  of  these,  which  seems  to  have  been  the  result  of  the 
battle  of  Cnidus  in  394,  we  know  only  from  the  evidence  of  coins  ; 
see  a  valuable  note  in  Holm,  iii.  54  foil. 

'^  Hicks,  Historical  Inscriptions,  No.  81  (C.  I.  A.  ii.  17) ; 
Diodorus,  xv.  28. 


292  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


But  the  Spartan  Empire  was  also  the  cause  of 
the  rise  of  another  power,  much  stronger  than  the 
new  Athenian  aUiance,  and  more  strikingly  illustra- 
tive of  the  growing  weakness  of  the  individual  ttoX^?. 
In  Boeotia  there  had  always  been  a  league  of  cities, 
and  the  physical  conditions  of  the  district  seemed  to 
make  a  real  federal  union  more  possible  here  than 
elsewhere  in  Greece  proper.  Boeotia  was  full  of 
cities,  which  were  not  separated  from  each  other  by 
great  mountain  chains ;  but  one  of  these  cities, 
Thebes,  was  larger,  stronger,  and  more  renowned 
than  the  rest.  A  true  federation  of  equals  was 
therefore  here  again  impossible ;  and  as  Professor 
Freeman  has  suggested,  a  avvoLKio-fjio^  with  Thebes, 
like  that  of  the  Attic  communities  with  Athens, 
would  have  been  a  more  practicable  form  of  union. -^ 
But  the  other  Boeotian  towns  were  probably  much 
stronger  than  the  village  communities  of  Attica,  and 
a  loose  federal  union  was  the  utmost  they  would 
bear.  Of  the  constitution  of  this  union  we  know 
very  little  ;  but  the  one  indisputable  fact  in  it  is 
that  Thebes  constituted  a  centralising  tendency 
which  was  apt  to  irritate  the  other  cities,  and  drove 
Platsea  and  Thespise  into  the  arms  of  Athens.^ 

It  is  obvious  that  under  pressure  of  a  common 
danger  this  centralising  tendency  of  Thebes  would 
rapidly  gain  ground.  Thebes  had  missed  her  chance 
in  the  Persian  wars  by  ignobly  taking  the  side  of 

^  History  of  Federal  Government,  vol.  i.  155  foil.  The  evidence 
for  this  league  is  succinctly  brought  together  by  Gilbert,  Hand- 
hiich,  ii.  52  foil.  Read  Herod,  vi.  108  ;  Tlmcyd.  iii.  53  ;  iv.  76, 
91,  92. 

2  Herod,  v.  79  ;  vi.  108  ;  Thucyd.  iv.  133. 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        293 

the  enemies  of  Greece.  But  against  Athenian 
aggression  she  only  too  gladly  took  the  lead,  and  at 
Delium  in  424  was  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  an 
almost  united  Boeotia.  Thus  the  Athenian  Empire 
had  its  natural  result  in  strengthening  this  league  as 
well  as  the  Peloponnesian  ;  but  it  was  the  Spartan 
Empire  that  completed  the  work  by  occupying  the 
Tlieban  fortress  with  a  garrison,  and  treating  Thebes 
as  a  dependency.  The  rise  of  Thebes  to  supremacy 
in  Bceotia  was  the  result  of  a  sudden  revolt  against 
this  Spartan  tyranny.  Only  eight  years  after  that 
revolt  (371  B.C.)  Theban  envoys  could  claim  at  Sparta 
to  be  enrolled  in  the  peace  of  that  year,  not  as 
Theban  but  as  Boeotian.  The  policy  of  Thebes  must 
be  the  policy  of  Bceotia,  and  any  rebellious  city 
must  pay  the  penalty.^  Orchomenus,  the  ancient 
rival  of  Thebes,  was  utterly  destroyed  by  Epaminon- 
das  himself.  It  would  seem  as  though  no  City- 
State  could  rise  to  power  as  the  champion  of  Hellenic 
autonomy  without  using  that  power  to  take  her  share 
in  destroying  it.  Athens,  Sparta,  Thebes,  all  in 
turn  yield  to  the  temptation  ;  they  deal  successive 
blows  at  the  TroXt?,  and  they  all  negotiate  with 
Persia  for  help  in  gaining  their  ends.  Even  such 
a  man  as  Epaminondas,  a  Greek  man  of  action  of 
the   noblest   type,  is   not  free  from  the  prevailing 

^  So,  too,  with  the  coinage  ;  from  374  to  338  B.C.  the  other 
Boeotian  cities  have  no  independent  coinage  ;  see  the  Brit.  Mus. 
Catalogue  of  Greek  Coins,  Central  Greece,  introduction,  p.  xlii. 
At  this  time  there  was  a  real  federal  currency,  and  the  coins  bear 
the  name  not  of  any  city,  but  of  the  federal  magistrate.  Orcho- 
menus alone,  the  ancient  rival  of  Thebes,  issued  a  few  "separatist  " 
coins  of  her  own. 


294  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

weakness.  But  as  the  determined  enemy  of  the  narrow 
Spartan  spirit,  he  worked  mainly  in  the  right  direc- 
tion ;  and  his  death  at  Mantinea  in  362  B.C.  deprived 
the  Greeks  of  the  only  leader  capable  of  dealing 
successfully  with  the  dangerous  man  of  genius  who 
three  years  later  ascended  the  throne  of  Macedon. 

To  sum  up:  in  this  period  we  find  the  Greek 
States  much  more  ready  than  in  the  previous  one  to 
coalesce  into  leagues  of  real  political  importance. 
They  combine,  it  is  true,  only  under  pressure  from 
without ;  at  first  against  the  Persian  enemy,  and 
later  against  the  leading  cities  which  successively 
convert  their  ow^n  leagues  into  powerful  empires. 
Leagues,  imperial  States,  and  Persian  arms  and 
diplomacy,  all  have  their  share  in  wearing  out  the 
vitality  of  the  individual  cities ;  the  free  and  self- 
sufficing  TToXt?  seems  to  be  fading  away,  and  it  is 
hard  to  see  what  new  political  combination  can  be 
found  to  take  its  place. 

3.  A  new  period  opens  with  the  growth  of  the 
Macedonian  powder  under  Philip  (359-336  B.C.). 
We  are  here  chiefly  concerned  to  notice  the  effect  on 
the  City-State,  not  only  of  the  strength  and  policy 
of  this  new  power,  but  also  of  the  efforts  of  the 
Greeks  themselves  to  counteract  it. 

At  the  time  of  Philip's  accession  the  so-called 
Theban  supremacy  had  just  practically  ended  with 
the  death  of  Epaminondas.  There  was  now  a  kind 
of  balance  of  power  between  the  three  leading 
States,  Sparta,  Athens,  and  Thebes,  no  one  of  which 
was  greatly  stronger  than  the  others ;  and  such  a 
balance  could  easily  be  worked  upon  by  any  great 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        295 

power  from  without.  Thus  when  Macedon  came 
into  the  range  of  Greek  politics,  under  a  man  of 
great  diplomatic  as  well  as  military  capacity,  who, 
like  a  Czar  of  to-day,  wished  to  secure  a  firm  footing 
on  the  sea-board  of  the  ^.gean,  she  found  her  work 
comparatively  easy. 

The  strong  imperial  policy  of  Philip  found  no 
real  antagonist  except  at  Athens.  Weak  as  she  was, 
and  straitened  by  the  break-up  of  her  new  con- 
federacy, Athens  could  still  produce  men  of  great 
talent  and  energy  ;  but  she  was  hampered  by  divided 
counsels.  Two  Athenians  of  this  period  seem  to 
represent  the  currents  of  Greek  political  thought, 
now  running  in  two  different  directions.  Demos- 
thenes represents  the  cause  of  the  City-State  in  this 
age,  of  a  union,  that  is,  of  perfectly  free  Hellenic 
cities  against  the  common  enemy.  Phocion represents 
the  feeling,  which  seems  to  have  been  long  growing  up 
among  thinking  men  at  Athens,  that  the  City-State 
was  no  longer  what  it  had  been,  and  could  no  longer 
stand  by  itself ;  that  what  was  needed  was  a  general 
Hellenic  j)eace,  and  possibly  even  an  arbiter  from 
without,^  an  arbiter  not  wholly  un-Hellenic  like  the 
Persian,  yet  one  who  might  succeed  in  stilling  the 
fatal  jealousies  of  the  leading  States.  We  may  do 
well  to  compare  the  views  of  these  two  statesmen 
somewhat  more  closely. 

^  The  connection  between  a  general  peace  and  a  strong  arbiter  is 
curiously  expressed  by  Dante  in  his  De  Ilonarchia,  ch.  iv.  foil.  The 
relation  of  the  Greek  cities  to  Macedon  is  not  unlike  that  of  the 
Italian  States  to  the  Empire  in  Dante's  time  :  See  Bryce's  Ilohj 
Roman  Empire,  pp.  76  foil. 


296  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

Tlie  Policy  of  Demosthenes. 

Let  us  note,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  efforts  of 
Demosthenes  to  check  Philip  fall  into  two  periods 
divided  by  the  peace  of  Philocrates  in  346  B.C. 
In  the  first  of  these  he  is  acting  chiefly  with  Athens 
alone ;  Philip  is  to  him  not  so  much  the  common 
enemy  of  Greece  as  the  dangerous  rival  of  Athens 
in  the  north.  His  whole  mind  was  given  to  the 
internal  reform  of  Athens  so  as  to  strengthen  her 
against  Philip.  In  her  relation  to  other  Greek  States 
he  perhaps  hardly  saw  beyond  a  balance  of  power ; 
and  as  Athens  alone  was  far  too  weak  to  resist 
Macedon,  this  policy  in  which  Demosthenes  repre- 
sents the  old  patriotism  of  the  TroXt?  was  doomed 
to  certain  failure. 

It  is  true  that  after  346  his  Athenian  feelincr 
seems  to  become  more  distinctly  Hellenic.^  But 
what  could  even  such  a  man  as  Demosthenes  do 
with  the  Hellas  of  that  day  ?  He  could  not  force 
on  the  Greeks  a  real  and  permanent  union ;  he 
could  but  urge  new  alliances.  His  strength  was 
spent  in  embassies  with  this  object,  embassies 
too  often  futile.  No  such  alliance  could  save 
Greece  from  the  Macedonian  power,  as  subsequent 
events  plainly  showed.  What  was  needed  was  a 
real  federal  union  between  the  leading  States,  with 

^  Traces  of  such  a  feeling  are  certainly  to  be  found  at  an  earlier 
date,  e.g.  in  the  speech  for  the  Megaloiwlitans  (352  B.C.) ;  but  I 
believe  I  am  representing  rightly  the  general  change  in  the  char- 
acter of  Demosthenes'    public   orations.      See   Curtius,    Hist,    of ' 
Greece,  vol.  v.  251. 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY         297 

a  strong  central  controlling  force  ;  and  Demosthenes' 
policy  was  hopeless  just  because  Athens  could  never 
be  the  centre  of  such  a  union,  nor  could  any  other 
city. 

Demosthenes  is  thus  the  last,  and  in  some 
respects  the  most  heroic  champion  of  the  old  Greek 
instinct  for  autonomy.  He  is  the  true  child  of  the 
City-State,  but  the  child  of  its  old  age  and  decrepi- 
tude. He  still  believes  in  Athens,  and  it  is  on 
Athens  that  all  his  hopes  are  based.  He  looks  on 
Philip  as  one  who  must  inevitably  be  the  foe  alike 
of  Athens  and  of  Greece.  He  seems  to  think  that  he 
can  be  beaten  off  as  Xerxes  was,  and  to  forget  that 
even  Xerxes  almost  triumphed  over  the  divisions 
of  the  Greek  States,  and  that  l^hilip  is  a  nearer, 
a  more  permanent,  and  a  far  less  barbarian  foe. 
Splendid  figure  as  he  is,  the  failure  of  Demosthenes 
shows  clearly  that  the  vitality  of  the  TroXt?  has 
been  greatly  weakened  since  the  Persian  wars,  and 
at  the  same  time  that  the  old  instinct  still  has  force 
enough  to  make  a  real  and  life-giving  union  im-  I 
practicable.  / 

The  Policy  of  Phocion 

This  remarkable  Athenian  figure  was  the  some- 
what odd  exponent  of  the  practical  side  of  a  school 
of  thought  which  had  been  gaining  strength  in 
Greece  for  some  time  past.  This  school  was  now 
brought  into  prominence  by  the  rise  of  Macedon, 
and  came  to  have  a  marked  influence  on  the  history 
of  the  City-State. 

It  began  with  the  philosophers,  and  with  the 


r 


f 


298  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

idea  that  the  philosopher  may  belong  to  the  world  as 
well  as  to  a  particular  city.  When  Socrates  described 
himself  as  koct/jllo^,  i.e.  a  citizen  of  the  world,  he 
meant  that  the  State  did  not  bind  him  in  everything, 
that  there  was  a  world  of  duty  and  of  thought 
beyond  and  transcending  the  State.^  We  can  re- 
cognise this  feeling  also  in  the  Eepublic  of  Plato, 
and  connect  it  with  a  philosophical  reaction  against 
the  political  life  of  the  Athenian  citizen.  Athens 
was  far  more  open  to  criticism  now  than  in  the 
days  of  Pericles ;  and  a  cynical  dislike  betrays  itself 
in  the  Eepublic  for  the  politicians  of  the  day  and 
their  tricks,  and  a  longing  for  a  strong  government 
of  reason,  which  Plato  could  find  in  no  existing 
Greek  TroXt?."  Not  indeed  that  Plato  really  gave  up 
the  TToXt?  as  hopeless,  or  sought  for  a  new  form  of 
State  to  take  its  place.  His  object,  as  seen  more 
especially  in  his  later  work,  the  Laws,  is  rather  "  to 
re-adapt  it  to  the  promotion  of  virtue  and  noble 
living."  ^  And  it  is  true  that  the  most  practical 
of  all  the  thinking  men  of  Greece,  one  who  lived  in 
this  age  and  was  intimately  connected  with  Mace- 
don  and  her  two  great  kings,  has  nothing  to  tell  us 
of  the  insufficiency  of  the  7r6\i<;  as  such ;  in  his 
eyes  it  was  Nature's  gift  to  man  to  enable  him  to 
perfect  himself  in  the  "good  life."  Aristotle  took 
the  facts  of  city  life  as  they  were  and  showed  how 
they  might  be   made  the  most  of      "  Not  a  par- 

^  Bernays,    Pltokion,    31  ;    Cic.    Tusc.    v.    108  ;    Plutarch,    de 
exilio,  5.     Cf.  Butcher,  Demosthenes,  i:>p.  25,  26. 
'^  See  e.g.  Republic,  vi.  496  B. 
^  Newman,  Politics  of  Aristotle,  vol.  i.  478. 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        299 

tide  of  his  attention,"  says  a  great  authority,  "  is 
diverted  from  the  7r6\c<i  to  the  eOvo^}  But  to  him 
Macedon  was  assuredly  not  wholly  barbarian ;  and 
war  to  the  death  with  her  kings  could  not  have 
been  to  him  as  natural  or  desirable  as  it  seemed  to 
Demosthenes.  And  though  he  has  nothing  to  tell 
us  of  Macedon,  we  can  hardly  avoid  the  conclusion 
that  his  desire  was  for  peace  and  internal  reform, 
even  if  it  were  under  the  guarantee  of  the  northern 
power,  for  the  sake  of  the  TroA-t?  itself  rather  than 
for  the  sake  of  gaining  military  strength  to  oppose 
that  power  as  an  enemy. 

Of  this  philosophical  view  of  Greek  politics 
Phocion  was  in  a  manner  the  political  exponent. 
But  his  policy  was  too  much  a  negative  one ;  it 
might  almost  be  called  one  of  indifferentism,  like  the 
feeling  of  Lessing  and  Goethe  in  Germany's  most 
momentous  period.  So  far  as  we  know,  Phocion 
never  proposed  an  alliance  of  a  durable  kind,  either 
Athenian  or  Hellenic,  with  Macedon ;  he  was  con- 
tent to  be  a  purely  restraining  influence.^  Athens 
had  been  constantly  at  war  since  432  ;  her  own 
resources  were  of  the  weakest ;  there  was  little 
military  skill  to  be  found  in  her,  no  reserve  force, 
much  talk,  but  little  solid  courage.  Athens  was 
vulnerable  at  various  points,  and  could  not  possibly 
defend  more  than  one  at  a  time,  therefore  Phocion 

^  NeAvman,  ib.  p.  479.  Read  also  the  valuable  discussion  of 
the  connection  of  Aristotle  with  Macedon,  pp.  469  foil.  Bernays, 
Phokion,  pp.  40  foil. 

2  Plutarch's  ii/e  of  Phocion,  ch.  viii.  ;  "  ewoXLTeveTo  /xh  dd  irpbs 
elp-qvqv  Koi  Ticrvxiav,"  etc.     Cf.  ch.  xvi. 


300  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

despaired  of  war,  and  the  event  proved  him  right. 
The  faithfulness  of  the  Athenians  towards  him  is  a 
proof  that  they  also  instinctively  felt  that  he  was 
right.  But  he  was  wanting  on  the  practical  and 
creative  side,  and  never  really  dominated  either 
Athens,  Greece,  or  Philip. 

There  seems  then  to  have  been  no  way  of  saving 
the  TToXt?  from  the  threatening  power  of  Macedon, 
either  by  united  resistance  or  by  the  acceptance  of 
Macedonian  leadership.  A  policy  of  resistance 
found  the  City -State  too  weak  to  defend  itself; 
a  policy  of  inaction  would  land  it  in  a  Macedonian 
empire  which  would  still  further  weaken  its  remain- 
ing vitality.  The  first  policy,  that  of  Demosthenes, 
did  actually  result  in  disaster  and  the  presence  of 
Macedonian  garrisons  in  Greek  cities.  The  second 
policy  then  took  its  place,  and  initiated  a  new  era 
for  Greece.  After  the  fatal  battle  of  Chseronea 
(338  B.C.)  Philip  assumed  the  position  of  leader  of 
the  Greek  cities.  Inspired  by  his  Greek  education, 
by  the  memory  of  the  Persian  wars,  by  the  career 
of  the  Spartan  Agesilaus,  and  by  the  writings  of 
Isocrates,  he  determined  to  lead  a  united  Greece 
against  Persia,  and  summoned  representatives  of  the 
cities  to  meet  him  at  the  Isthmus  as  the  first  step. 
Assassination  cut  short  his  designs ;  but  in  his  son 
Greece  found  a  still  mightier  exponent  of  this  idea 
of  her  true  relation  to  Macedon.  Under  Alexander 
it  was  not  Macedon  that  conquered  the  East,  but 
Greece.  And  at  home  it  was  not  only  Alexander's 
generals  who  kept  Greece  under  the  influence  of 
Macedon,  but  Greeks  and  even  Athenians, — Phocion 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        301 

and  Demetrius  of  Phalerum.^  Thus  the  policy  of 
union  and  reorganisation  for  the  TroXet?  under  the 
strong  guardianship  of  Macedon  was  the  one  which 
was  eventually  successful ;  but  it  cost  them  the 
loss  of  much  of  their  remaining  vitality  as  free  and 
self-sufficing  political  organisms.  True,  neither 
Philip  nor  Alexander  dealt  hardly  with  the  cities, 
Thebes  alone  excepted;  they  left  them  nominally 
free,^  and  they  identified  the  interest  of  the  Greeks 
with  their  own.  But  they  could  and  did  interfere 
with  them  whenever  they  chose,  and  without  meet- 
ing with  any  successful  resistance.  Their  forcible 
supervision  cast  a  great  shadow  upon  the  City-State, 
dimming  and  almost  obliterating  the  clear  outlines 
of  its  political  life. 

A  great  future  was  still  before  the  Greek  race, 
which  was  yet  to  set  its  mark  upon  the  world's 
history,  with  a  force  it  never  could  have  exerted 
under  the  older  political  system.  But  the  TroXt?, 
the  peculiar  product  of  the  political  genius  of  the 
Greeks,  their  true  home  in  which  all  their  choicest 
work  had  been  done,  was  now  no  longer  their  own. 
They  were  like  the  freeholder  of  an  ancient  family, 
who  has  mortgaged  and  lost  his  inheritance,  but  is 
still  allowed  to  live  on  in  the  old  home  as  tenant. 

^  Of  this  pliilosoplier-statesman,  who  was  imfieXTiTyjs  of  Athens 
under  Cassander,  and  altered  her  constitution  perhaps  on  the 
model  of  Aristotle's  ideal  State,  we  should  be  glad  to  know  more. 
What  little  we  do  know  will  be  found  succinctly  put  together  in 
Thirlwall,  Hist,  of  Greece,  vol.  vii.  355  foil. 

^  Alexander,  for  example,  made  proclamation  of  their  autonomy 
after  the  battle  of  Issus.  See  Plutarch's  life  of  him,  ch.  xxxiv.,  and 
cf.  xvi.  Jin, 


302  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

The  essential  charm  of  ownership  was  gone  for 
them,  and  with  it  all  the  joy  and  intensity  of  social 
life ;  and  though  this  very  calamity  might  widen 
their  mental  horizon,  and  find  them  new  interests 
and  fresh  work  to  do,  the  stream  of  their  intel- 
lectual effort  would  never  again  run  so  clear  and 
strong  as  in  the  days  of  the  perfect  freedom  of  the 
individual  City-State. 

Of  the  ultimate  fate  of  the  Greek  cities  I  shall 
give  some  account  in  the  next  chapter.  But  it  may 
be  as  well  to  follow  out  the  story  we  have  been 
pursuing  by  referring  at  once  to  the  last  attempt 
of  the  Greeks  to  recover  political  independence ; 
especially  as  that  attempt  was  for  a  time  successful, 
and  successful  just  because  the  old  instinct  of 
autonomy  had  steadily  become  feebler,  and  the 
cities  were  more  willing  than  in  the  earlier  periods 
to  unite  into  real  federal  unions. 

After  Alexander's  empire  had  been  broken  up, 
his  successors  on  the  throne  of  Macedon  continued 
to  press  more  or  less  heavily  on  the  Greek  cities. 
Though  for  the  most  part  left  nominally  inde- 
pendent, they  were  not  really  so;  more  than  one  of 
them  was  a  Macedonian  fortress,  and  in  others  the 
old  disease  of  tyranny,  aided  now  by  the  Macedonian 
power,  begins  once  more  to  appear.  About  280 
B.C.  four  cities  of  the  old  Ach^an  League,  which 
had  been  dissolved  by  Alexander,  united  afresh  in  a 
more  solid  union  than  their  former  one.  These 
were  quickly  joined  by  others,  and  in  251  Aratus 
of  Sicyon  compelled  his  native  city  to  join  the 
league.     From   this   latter   year  we  may  date  the 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        303 

beginning  of  the  first  real  federation  which  Greece 
had  ever  known.     This  federation,  of  which  Aratus, 
at  once  became  the  leading  spirit,  was  beyond  all   ' 
doubt  what   the  Germans  happily  term  a  Bundes-l 
staat,  as  distinguished  from  a  Staatenbund  ;^  that^ 
is,   it    constituted    a    State  in  itself,   and  was  not  I 
merely  an  alliance  of  perfectly  independent  cities.  J 
Plutarch,  who  had  studied  it  carefully,  in  order  to 
write  his  life  of  Aratus,  thus  briefly  sketches  it  in 
his  later  biography  of  Philopoemen  (ch.  viii.) : — 

"  Aratus  was  the  first  wlio  raised  the  commonwealth  of 
the  Acliseans  to  dignity  and  power.  For  whereas  before 
they  were  in  a  low  condition,  scattered  in  unconnected  cities, 
he  combined  them  in  one  body,  and  gave  them  a  moderate 
civil  government  worthy  of  Greece.  And  as  it  haj^pens  in 
running  waters  that  when  a  few  small  bodies  stop  otliers 
stick  to  them,  and  one  part  strengthening  another  the  whole 
becomes  one  firm  and  solid  mass,  so  it  was  with  Greece.  At 
a  time  when  she  was  weak  and  easily  broken,  dispersed  in 
a  variety  of  indejjendent  cities,  the  Achaeans  first  united 
themselves  :  and  then  attaching  some  of  the  neighbouring 
cities  by  assisting  them  to  expel  their  tyrants,  while  others 
voluntarily  joined  them  for  the  sake  of  that  unanimity 
which  they  beheld  in  so  well  constituted  a  government,  they 
conceived  the  design  of  incorporating  Peloponnesus  into  one 
great  power." 

The  general  idea  of  the  character  of  the  League 
which  is  here  indicated  is  borne  out  by  the  valuable 
evidence  of  Polybius,  whose  connection  with  it  in 
its  later  days  was  an  important  though  a  melancholy 
one.  Chiefly  from  him  we  learn  the  following 
significant  facts.^     Unlike  the  older  Greek  leagues, 

1  Freeman,  Comparative  Politics,  p.  387. 

-  Polyb.  ii.  37.     The  evidence  from  coins  is  here  interesting,  as 


304  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

in  which  some  dominant  city  was  ahnost  always  an 
element  of  insecurity,  the  Achaean  federation  was 
composed  of  cities  among  w^hich  no  single  one  was 
decidedly  preponderant ;  each  of  these  had  one  vote 
only  in  the  common  assembly,  which  was  held  in 
the  later  period  of  the  League  at  least  turn  by  turn 
in  all  of  them.  And  further,  the  central  government 
was  a  strong  one,  consisting  of  a  single  arparTjyo^  or 
general,  assisted  by  a  council  of  ten,  and  having  for 
the  year  of  his  office  complete  administrative  and 
executive  power.  The  central  government  thus 
constituted  exercised  control  over  the  foreign  policy 
of  the  League,  over  its  military  resources,  its 
finance,  coinage,  and  weights  and  measures.  What 
was  the  judicial  and  constraining  power  which  sup- 
ported the  central  government  we  do  not  clearly 
know ;  but  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  there  was  a 
judicial  tribunal  of  some  kind  common  to  the  whole 
League.^ 

These  facts  show  beyond  question  that  the 
Achaean  federation  formed  a  State  in  itself  as 
distinct  from  the  States  composing  it ;  and  in  this 

showing  that  some  important  cities,  e.g.  Argos  and  Sicyon,  issued 
their  own  coinage  independently  of  that  of  the  League.  Hence  we 
learn  (1)  that  the  spirit  of  autonomy  was  still  alive  in  them,  and 
(2)  that  though  no  one  city  was  preponderant,  a  feAV  Avere  far 
more  powerful  than  the  rest, — many  in  fact  being  still  mere 
villages.     See  Brit.  Mus.  Catalogue,  Peloponnesus,  p.  24  foil. 

^  The  evidence  for  this  constitution  is  to  be  found  discussed  in 
Freeman's  History  of  Federal  Government  (unfortunately  a  difficult 
book  to  procure),  vol.  i.  236  foil.  ;  or  in  a  more  concentrated  form 
in  Gilbert,  Handhuch,  ii.  110  foil.  The  authorities  are  chiefly 
Polybius,  Livy's  later  books,  Plutarch's  Lives  of  Aratus,  Cleomenes 
and  Philopcemen,  and  a  few  passages  in  Pausanias,  etc. 


X  EXTERNAL  CAUSES  OF  DECAY        305 

consists  at  once  its  peculiarity  and  its  significance 
in  Greek  history.  As  in  all  true  federations,  the 
members  were  quite  free  to  manage  their  own  local 
affairs,  but  by  uniting  into  one  great  State  they  now 
at  last  made  confession  that  those  local  affairs  were 
no  longer  of  absorbing  interest.  Even  now  it  is 
curious  to  notice  that  the  more  famous  cities, 
Athens,  Sparta,  Corinth,  which  had  once  drawn 
their  health  and  strength  from  the  older  system, 
were  always  reluctant  to  come  into  the  League ; 
but  among  the  lesser  ones  at  least  the  old  passion 
for  autonomy  has  fretted  itself  away,  and  they  are 
now  able  to  unite  without  misgivings  or  jealousies. 

But  this  new  form  of  State  proved  hardly  more 
capable  of  defending  or  uniting  Greece  than  the 
one  which  had  gone  before  it.  To  increase  its 
strength  the  Achaean  League  sought  to  compel 
other  cities  to  join  it,  and  to  attain  this  object  it 
allied  itself  with  the  very  enemy  whose  encroach- 
ments had  called  it  into  existence.  The  rivalry 
and  hatred  between  the  League  and  Sparta  is  the 
saddest  fact  in  the  last  pages  of  Greek  history ;  and 
when  we  find  Achseans  under  such  a  Greek  as 
Philopoemen  united  with  Macedon  in  crushing  the 
noblest  of  all  Spartan  kings  on  the  heights  of 
Sellasia,  we  feel  that  the  City -State  and  Pan- 
Hellenic  feeling  are  vanishing  away  together,  and 
that  with  them  passes  also  all  that  is  best  and 
noblest  in  the  most  gifted  of  all  races. 


CHAPTEK    XI 

DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  :    THE  ROMAN  EMPIRE 

It  has  often  been  said  that  the  history  of  Greece 
starts  afresh  with  the  conquests  of  Alexander.  True 
as  this  is  in  many  ways,  it  is  not  really  true  of  the 
political  life  of  the  Greeks.  The  Greek  City- State 
makes  no  fresh  start  at  this  point,  but  languishes  on 
in  gradual  decay  for  nearly  three  centuries. 

Yet  Greece,  through  Alexander,  her  foster-child 
and  pupil,  came  herself  very  near  to  the  discovery 
of  a  new  political  system.  For  the  few  short  years 
of  Alexander  s  manhood  it  must  have  seemed  as 
though  the  City-State  were  to  escape  further  linger- 
ing decay,  and  to  pass  at  once  into  a  new  existence 
as  the  organised  material  of  a  great  empire.  Just 
as  the  Greeks  were  now  to  turn  their  intellectual 
gifts  in  new  directions,  so  it  seemed  as  if  they  were 
about  to  put  their  peculiar  political  creation  to  a 
new  use.  In  the  marvellous  career  of  Alexander, 
it  is  easy  to  forget  that  he  was  at  heart  a  Greek, 
and  that  he  identified  himself  and  his  aims  with 
Greece  and  her  ancient  aspirations ;  but  this  must 


CHAP.  XI        DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  307 

be  clearly  understood,  as  well  as  the  ideas  of  empire 
which  were  fermenting  in  his  mind,  if  we  would  see 
how  the  Greeks  had  once  the  chance  of  anticipating 
the  work  of  Eome,  and  how  it  came  about  that  they 
lost  it. 

Even  in  Philip,  as  we  saw  in  the  last  chapter, 
the  desire  for  empire  was  combined  with  the  con- 
viction that  such  empire  must  be  founded  on  a  basis 
of  Greek  civilisation.  Philip  is,  as  has  often  been 
said,  one  of  those  men  of  whose  inner  history  we 
would  fain  know  more.  His  respect  for  Greek 
culture,  combined  with  his  strife  for  empire,  make 
him  one  of  the  most  singular  figures  in  history.  He 
dealt  gently  with  Greece ;  he  respected  the  Greek 
religion  ;  he  called  on  the  Greeks  to  unite  with  him 
in  freeing  their  Asiatic  brethren  from  Persian  domi- 
nation. But  in  his  son,  whose  character  has  come 
down  to  us  as  clearly  as  the  features  on  his  coins, 
we  see  the  Greek  influence  most  unmistakably.  It 
is  just  this  Greek  side  of  Alexander's  nature,  or  at 
least  the  result  of  a  thoroughly  Greek  training  on 
his  mind,  which  gives  Plutarch's  biography  its  special 
value  as  distinct  from  other  accounts  of  him ;  and  it 
may  be  as  well  to  dwell  on  this  for  a  moment  if 
we  would  appreciate  the  bearing  of  his  brief  and 
wonderful  life  on  the  history  of  the  City-State. 

Plutarch's  portrait  of  Alexander  is  that  of  a  man 
whose  power  of  self-restraint  (crcocppoavvrj)  makes 
him  even  more  Greek  than  most  Greeks  of  his  day, 
in  spite  of  an  occasional  outbreak  of  passion.^     It  is 

^  Plutarch,  Alex.  21-23  ;  cf.  40.       "rov  vlkolv  tovs  roXefxiovs  to 
Kpareiv  eavrov  ^acnXLKdbrepov  rjyov/iievoi." 


308  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

a  portrait  also  of  one  in  whom  can  be  discerned  a 
humanity  and  sensibility  which  are  perhaps  not 
essentially  Greek,  but  might  well  be  the  result  of  a 
Grreek  education  on  a  fine  semi-Hellenic  mind.^  And 
Plutarch  also  depicts  him  as  feeling  his  permanent 
source  of  strength  to  be  Hellenic,  and  looking  upon 
his  Macedonians  as  little  more  than  necessary  tools. 
Allowing  something  for  Plutarch's  Hellenism,  we 
find  that  the  facts  bear  out  these  statements.  "  The 
Greeks  are  demigods  among  Macedonian  brutes," 
Alexander  cried  in  one  of  his  fits  of  passion.  The 
Greek  Eumenes  was  his  secretary ;  with  Aristotle, 
his  former  tutor,  and  Phocion,  who  understood  his 
aspirations,  he  is  said  to  have  kept  up  corre- 
spondence.^ The  boys  in  Babylon  were  edu- 
cated in  Greek  fashion,  though  they  were  taught 
the  Macedonian  drill.  After  the  battle  of  Issus 
he  sent  a  portion  of  the  spoils  to  Greek  cities  as  far 
distant  as  Croton,  and  at  the  same  time  made 
proclamation  of  their  autonomy.  He  told  the 
Athenians,  after  the  destruction  of  Thebes,  "  to 
attend  to  affairs,  as  they  would  have  to  rule  Greece 
if  anything  happened  to  him ; "  and  even  if  this 
last  story  be  only  an  Athenian  invention,  the  fact 
that  it  could  be  invented  is  itself  significant.^ 

It  seems,  then,  that  whether  we  look  at  his 
character,  or  at  his-  conduct  towards  the  Greeks, 
and  his  respect  for  their  culture,  Alexander  had 
advanced  a  long  way  beyond  his  father  in  his 
acknowledgment    of   the    claims    of    the    Hellenic 

^  Plutarch,  Alex.  27  sub  Jin.,  29,  39  sub  fin. 
2  Ibid.  39  ;  cf.  17  sub  fin.  ^  Ibid.  13. 


XI  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  ^qj^ 

genius.  But  we  have  also  to  consider  what  he  did, 
or  meant  to  do,  as  a  military  Statesman  representing 
Greece.  English  writers,  with  the  exception  per- 
haps of  Thirlwall,  have  not  taken  a  high  view  of 
Alexander's  schemes  of  empire ;  but  the  following 
facts  seem  to  have  been  sufficiently  proved  by  the 
one  great  modern  historian  of  this  and  the  following 
age.^  First,  he  projected  the  foundation  of  cities 
throughout  his  conquests,  to  be  peopled  as  far  as 
possible  by  Greeks,  and  governed  under  Greek  con- 
stitutional forms ;  and  it  is  matter  of  history  that 
he  himself  actually  began  this  work.  Not  only  the 
new  foundations  of  Tyre  and  Gaza,  and  the  still 
more  famous  Alexandria,  attest  his  intention  of 
carrying  the  Greek  TroXt?  into  his  new  dominions, 
but  also  many  cities  in  the  far  east,  even  in 
Afghanistan  and  India,  in  which  we  now  know  that 
there  was  a  Greek  element,  though  they  were 
largely  made  up  of  the  native  populations.  Alex- 
ander indeed  himself  was  cut  short  at  the  outset 
of  his  work ;  but  it  was  carried  on  by  the  succes- 
sors among  whom  his  empire  was  divided,  and 
especially  by  Seleucus,  who  left  a  great  name  behind 
him  as  a  founder  of  cities.  Secondly,  it  is  beyond 
question  that  Alexander  had  in  his  mind  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  great  system  of  world-commerce,  which 
should  draw  together  Greece  and  Egypt  and  the 
East,  and  of  which  the  Nile,  the  Tigris,  and  the 
Indus  were  to  be  the  principal  channels. 

Combining    these     facts    with    what    we     have 

1  Droysen,  Hellenismus,   vol.  iii.     The  same  view  is  taken  by 
Professor  Gardner  in  liis  Neiv  Chaiiters  of  Greek  History,  cli.  xiv. 


310  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

already  seen  of  Alexander's  Hellenic  feeling,  we 
can  hardly  avoid  the  inference  that  the  idea  was 
present  to  his  mind  of  Hellenising  the  world  by 
means  of  cities  and  communications,  and  that  he 
looked  upon  Hellenic  civilisation  as  the  only  exist- 
ing cement  capable  of  holding  together  the  structure 
of  a  universal  empire. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  what  would 
have  been  the  result  for  the  City-State  of  such  an 
empire  as  this,  had  it  been  possible  for  Alexander 
or  his  successors  to  realise  it.  The  Greek  race  as 
a  whole  might  have  gained  much,  but  the  ttoX^? 
would  have  sunk  into  the  position  of  a  municipal 
town.  Each  State  would  have  lost  at  once  and  for 
ever  those  very  conditions  of  life  in  which  had  been 
nurtured  all  that  was  most  brilliant  in  the  Greek 
character;  that  absolute  freedom  and  independence 
of  all  others,  which  brought  thought  and  action  into 
such  perfect  harmony,  and  gave  to  the  life  of  every 
citizen  a  unique  value  in  relation  both  to  himself 
and  his  State.  This  at  least  would  have  been  the 
loss  of  a  people  who  had  proved  that  they  could 
bring  their  form  of  State  very  near  to  perfection. 
But  the  last  two  chapters  will  have  shown  in  some 
degree  that  this  form  of  State  was  very  far  from 
being  any  longer  perfect ;  and  from  such  an  empire 
as  that  which  Alexander's  imagination  suggested, 
something  at  least  might  have  been  gained  for  the 
Greeks, -if  not  for  their  ttoXl^.  Had  he  lived  to 
carry  out  his  great  schemes,  a  new  prospect  of 
life,  social,  political,  intellectual,  might  have  opened 
before  the   Greek  race  ;  the  whole   stream  of  their 


XI  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  311 

infinite  capacity  might  have  been  turned  into  a  new 
channel.  Even  as  it  was,  they  left  the  mark  of 
Hellenic  genius  in  every  land  to  which  Alexander 
led  them ;  and  who  shall  say  that  such  a  people 
might  not  have  developed  also  a  system  of  law  and 
government  adequate  to  the  needs  of  the  human 
race  from  the  Indus  to  the  Adriatic  ? 

But  the  idea  and  the  possibility  of  such  a  system 
perished  for  the  time  with  Alexander.  At  the 
moment  of  his  death  two  problems  called  impera- 
tively for  solution,  if  the  project  of  universal  empire 
were  to  be  carried  out;  and  these  two  problems 
were  equally  insoluble.  First,  the  Persians  had  to 
be  combined  with  the  Macedonians  ;  secondly,  the 
Macedonians  had  to  be  combined  with  the  Greeks. 
The  hopelessness  of  the  first  of  these  combinations 
made  itself  felt  at  once.  The  Macedonians  would 
not  accept  as  king  the  child  of  Alexander  by  an 
Oriental ;  and  as  they  were  the  real  instruments  of 
conquest,  with  them  lay  the  fatal  decision.  The 
Persians  were  ready,  not  the  Macedonians.  N'o 
union  was  possible  save  through  a  personality  such 
as  Alexander's  had  been,  for  there  was  no  idea  to 
grou.nd  it  on,  or  none  that  was  sufficiently  clear 
and  comprehensible.  For  the  union  of  Macedonians 
and  Greeks  there  might  indeed  have  been  some  faint 
hope.  There  was  one  striking  character,  a  Greek 
of  culture,  ability,  and  feeling,  the  subject  of  one  of 
Plutarch's  most  interesting  biographies,  who  con- 
tinued to  represent  the  union  of  Greece  and  Macedon 
for  some  time  after  Alexander's  death.  But  Eumenes 
struggled  in  vain  against  a  combination  of  uncultured 


312  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

rivals,  and  was  finally  betrayed  by  the  Macedonians 
whom  he  had  taught,  as  Plutarch  tells  us,  to  love 
and  obey  him/ 

Alexander's  empire  was  soon  broken  up  into 
Macedonian  satrapies  or  kingdoms.  Greece  was 
the  continual  prey  of  one  of  these,  and  the  scene 
of  struggle  between  others  ;  and  the  difficulty  of 
maintaining  these  kingdoms,  together  with  the  rude 
character  of  their  Macedonian  rulers,  led  to  con- 
tinual wars  between  individual  kings  at  the  head 
of  mercenary  armies, — wars  which  seem  for  a  time 
to  deprive  history  of  all  its  value.  Meanwhile 
the  Greeks,  instead  of  finding  new  life  and  hope 
in  a  mighty  political  combination  of  which  they, 
like  their  TroXt?  in  its  surrounding  territory,  were 
to  have  been  the  brain  and  life,  were  left  to  con- 
tinue half-heartedly,  weary  and  worn-out,  in  their 
City-States,  under  the  ominous  shadow  of  Mace- 
donian kings,  until  some  new  power  should  appear 
with  a  political  genius  adequate  to  the  organising 
of  the  world  afresh. 

Such  a  power  at  last  appeared,  after  an  interval 
of  a  century  and  a  half,  in  that  great  City-State  of 
the  West  whose  political  development  has  been 
already  sketched.  In  tracing  this  development  I 
intentionally  dwelt  upon  those  points  which  seemed 
to  indicate  that  of  all  City-States  Eome  was  the 
best  equipped  for  the  task  of  governing  the  world. 

^  It  is  possible  that  Plutarch's  life  of  Eumenes  may  be  too 
favourable,  as  based  on  the  evidence  of  his  fellow  -  townsman 
Hieronymus  ;  but  it  is  not  contradicted  by  other  writers.  Cf. 
Ranke,  Weltgeschichte,  vol.  i.  pt.  ii.  221  foil. 


XI  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  313 

We  saw  that  from  the  beginning  she  was  not  a 
wholly  isolated  community,  but  the  member  of  a 
Latin  league,  of  which  she  made  herself  successively 
the  leader  and  the  mistress.  We  have  noticed  the 
strength  of  her  early  realisation  of  the  meaning  of 
magisterial  power  and  the  ready  faculty  she  dis- 
played in  the  conception,  and  later  in  the  extended 
application,  of  legal  ideas.  We  have  seen  in  passing 
how  the  habits  and  temperament  of  her  people  fitted 
them  for  war  and  conquest,  and  how  as  early  as  the 
age  of  kingship  her  military  resources  were  fully 
organised.  And  we  traced  in  outline  the  steady 
development  of  her  institutions  in  the  direction  of 
popular  sovereignty,  and  the  course  of  the  counter- 
current  that  brought  her  under  the  rule  of  an 
oligarchy  of  wonderful  aptitude  for  the  detailed 
business  of  government.  It  remains  to  explain 
how  Eome,  herself  a  City- State,  ceased  at  last  to 
be  one ;  how  in  the  vast  reach  of  her  endeavour 
to  deprive  all  others  of  their  autonomous  life,  she 
too  lost  the  genius  of  the  TroXt?.  And  we  must 
take  also  a  glance,  however  rapid  and  superficial, 
at  the  system  of  universal  empire  which  Eomans, 
rather  than  Eome,  succeeded  at  last  in  creating 
out  of  the  old  materials. 

Almost  before  her  history  can  be  truly  said  to 
begin,  the  Eoman  territory  had  already  exceeded 
the  limits  which  Aristotle  regarded  as  sufficient  for 
the  perfect  City-State.  When  Alexander  died  at 
Babylon  in  323  B.C.  she  had  reduced  her  own 
kindred,  the  Latins,  together  with  other  peoples  in 
her  vicinity,  and  was  engaged  in  a  deadly  struggle 


314  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

with  the  hardy  stocks  of  the  mterior  of  the  penin- 
sula. While  his  successors  were  fighting  amongst 
themselves,  and  wasting  the  strength  of  Greece  by 
the  loss  of  one  mercenary  army  after  another,  Kome 
was  conquering  and  organising  all  Italy,  and  wrest- 
ing from  Carthage  the  empire  of  the  Western  Medi- 
terranean. During  the  age  of  the  struggles  and 
intrigues  of  the  Achaean  League,  she  was  going 
through  her  mortal  conflict  with  Hannibal,  in  the 
course  of  which  she  acquired  a  Spanish  dominion, 
and  from  which  she  rose  more  formidable  than  ever, 
to  attack  and  ruin  the  Macedonian  power  itself. 
Greece  then  passed  under  her  protection,  and  before 
long  was  united  with  Macedonia  as  a  Eoman  pro- 
vince. The  Greek  king  of  Pergamus  bequeathed 
his  kingdom  to  her ;  the  one  Greek  City-State 
which  still  retained  a  real  independence  and  pros- 
perity, the  city  and  island  of  Ehodes,  was  her  firm 
friend  and  ally.  Greek  historians,  and  especially 
the  cosmopolitan  Polybius,  began  to  recognise  a  new 
order  of  things  in  the  world,  and  like  Virgil 
a  century  later,  and  Dante  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
looked  upon  Eome,  as  destined  from  her  foundation 
to  be  the  mistress  of  a  mighty  empire.  By  the 
end  of  the  second  century  B.C.  that  empire  included 
every  valuable  region  of  the  Mediterranean  except 
Egypt,  and  a  century  later  it  stretched  from  the 
Euphrates  to  the  Atlantic. 

And  yet,  during  almost  the  whole  of  this  period, 
Kome  continued  to  be  in  some  sense  a  City-State, 
and  what  is  more,  for  some  time  at  least  believed 
herself  to  be  maintaining  the  free'  city-life  of  her 


XI  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  315 

Greek  subjects  wherever  it  still  existed.  Civic  life 
and  civic  government  are  terms  which  perfectly 
well  express  the  nature  of  the  Eoman  polity  even 
after  all  these  conquests.  The  government  which 
conquered  Spain  and  Africa,  Syria  and  Gaul,  was 
essentially  the  same  in  form  as  that  which  had 
ruled  Eome  when  she  had  yet  to  conquer  Italy. 
The  magistrates  continued  to  convene  the  Senate 
in  Konian  temples,  to  transact  there  the  business  of 
the  world ;  in  the  ancient  Forum  of  Eomulus  the 
"  Roman  people "  still  passed  laws  and  ratified 
treaties.  Even  after  Rome  had  become  the  world's 
emporium,  and  the  resort  of  men  of  business  and 
learning  from  every  quarter  of  the  Empire,  her 
social  life  was  still,  as  it  was  for  Cicero,^  that  of  a 
City-State,  and  it  was  as  a  City-State  that  she  still 
ruled  the  world.  And  wherever  she  found  the 
City-State  in  existence  among  the  cities  she  con- 
quered, she  retained  it,  if  only  as  a  matter  of  policy, 
at  least  in  its  outward  form  and  features. 

We  may  best  realise  the  truth  of  all  this,  and 
the  nature  of  the  change  which  finally  came  over 
the  world,  if  we  turn  our  attention  for  a  moment  to 
the  way  in  which  the  Roman  oligarchy  of  the 
Republic  dealt  with  the  conquered  peoples.  To 
meet  the  needs  of  government  as  they  successively 
arose,  the  Roman  Senate  invented  no  new  system ; 

^  Cicero  stands  in  this  respect  to  Rome  as  Demosthenes  to 
Athens  ;  he  was  the  last-born  legitimate  son  of  the  Roman  City- 
State.  Perhaps  this  may  be  best  seen  ilhistrated  in  the  second  and 
third  books  of  his  treatise,  "De  Legibus  "  ;  but  it  is  ol)vious 
throughout  his  writings,  and  is  the  real  clue  to  the  right  apprecia- 
tion of  his  political  career. 


316  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

adaptation  rather  than  invention  was  what  they 
chiefly  excelled  in.  In  dealing  with  their  conquests 
they  turned  to  account  their  faculty  of  adaptation 
in  two  distinct  ways.  First,  they  used  their  city- 
magistracy  for  the  government  of  their  new  acquisi- 
tions ;  that  dread  imperium,  which  their  fathers 
had  handed  down  to  them  as  the  greatest  political 
treasure  of  their  State,  they  now  simply  extended 
in  its  full  force  over  the  vast  territories  they  con- 
quered. We  saw  (p.  108)  that  the  consul  in  the 
field  retained  undiminished  the  impermm  of  the 
Eex.  Now  as  fresh  wars  or  rebellions  might  always 
be  expected  in  the  conquered  lands,  this  undi- 
minished impe^mim,  i.e.  supreme  military  and  judi- 
cial power  in  combination,  was  utilised  to  do  the 
required  work.  The  consul,  holding  this  power, 
presided  over  Italy  as  the  sphere  of  his  government 
(provincia).  Even  when  the  islands  of  Sicily  and 
Sardinia  were  annexed,  no  new  office  was  created ; 
four  praetors  were  elected,  instead  of  two,  and  among 
these  four  the  provincice  were  allotted,  two  of  juris- 
diction at  home,  two  of  government  beyond  the 
sea.  Those  who  undertook  these  last  held  an  im- 
periitm  precisely  equal  in  all  essentials  to  that  of 
the  consul  in  the  field ;  and  like  him  they  were  in 
the  eye  of  the  law  simply  magistrates  of  the  City- 
State  of  Eome.  With  a  slight  extension  this  simple 
system  was  maintained  during  more  than  two 
centuries.  In  course  of  time  the  impermm  of  con- 
sul or  praetor  came  to  be  prorogued,  as  it  was  called, 
so  that  he  might  discharge  the  growing  business  of 
the  home  government  during  one  year,  and  proceed 


XI  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  317 

in  the  second  to  his  provincial  command ;  but 
viewed  constitutionally  his  magistracy  was  precisely 
the  same  during  both  years.  Thus  the  ancient 
imperium  of  the  City-State  was  found  to  be  suffi- 
cient for  all  purposes  of  government,  whether  in 
Eome,  Italy,  or  beyond  the  sea.^ 

Secondly,  wherever  the  Eomans  found  City- 
States  in  the  countries  they  subdued,  they  retained 
them  together  with  their  local  institutions  ;  modify- 
ing these  so  far  as  they  deemed  it  advisable,  but 
rarely  putting  fresh  ones  in  their  place.  This  was 
their  policy  in  Italy,  in  Sicily,  in  Greece,  in  Asia, 
wherever  in  fact  the  city-community  had  flourished 
in  any  form.  Occasionally  indeed  they  destroyed 
a  city,  as  they  wantonly  destroyed  Corinth ;  and 
sometimes  they  might  deprive  it  of  all  real  self- 
government,  as  they  degraded  Capua  after  the 
Hannibalic  war.  But  for  the  most  part,  both  as 
matter  of  convenience  and  policy,  they  let  the  local 
magistrates  and  councils  continue  to  administer  the 
local  laws.  Even  in  those  provinces  where  the 
City-State  had  never  really  existed,  as  in  North 
Italy  and  in  Spain,  they  did  aU  that  could  be  done 
to  initiate  city-life  on  the  model  of  their  own.  Like 
Alexander,  they  began  the  foundation  of  cities  by 
drawing  the  native  population  together  into  new 
centres ;  and  as  time  went  on,  colonies  of  the  full 
Eoman,  as  well  as  of  the  inferior  Latin  franchise, 
each  a  miniature  Eome,  with  its  own  magistrates 
and  Senate,  began  to  appear  even  in  the  transmarine 

^  Mommsen,  Staatsrecht,  vol.  ii.  pt.  i.  (ed.  2)  229  foil.     Willems, 
Droit  public  Romain,  pp.  249  foil.,  274  foil. 


318  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


provinces.  Neither  llomans  nor  Greeks  could  think 
of  civilised  life  apart  from  the  city  as  a  centre  of 
business,  government,  and  pleasure ;  and  the  Eoman 
oligarchy,  true  to  its  practical  instincts,  saw  also  in 
the  city  a  most  convenient  machinery  for  raising 
the  taxes  they  imposed.^ 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  it  was  the  city, 
rather  than  the  City-State,  which  they  thus  turned 
to  account.  Here  is  exactly  the  point  at  which  we 
can  best  see  how  the  older  form  of  State  slowly 
passed  into  an  imperial  one,  forming,  as  it  were,  out 
of  its  old  and  well-worn  material  a  fresh  cellular 
tissue  for  a  new  political  system.  It  will  be  by 
this  time  sufficiently  obvious  that  the  real  life  of 
the  7roXt9  was  now  everywhere  already  extinct,  or 
rapidly  passing  away.  The  bodily  appearance  was 
there,  but  the  spirit  had  departed.  Yet  the  material 
which  remained  could  be  turned  to  new  purposes ; 
the  cities  could  become,  by  an  easy  transition,  the 
municipal  towns  of  an  empire.  Some  few  indeed 
were  still  nominally  the  allies  of  Eome,  had  their 
freedom  guaranteed  by  treaty,  and  paid  no  taxes 
to  the  Eoman  Government;  but  all  the  rest  were 
now  to  be  treated  as  convenient  centres  of  adminis- 
tration, and  to  pass  under  the  control,  more  or  less 
direct  in  various  degrees,  of  the  magistrates  of  the 
mistress  of  the  world.      And   this  mistress,  though 

1  A  useful  account  of  Roman  policy  in  regard  to  town-life  will 
be  found  in  the  last  chapter  of  W.  T.  Arnold's  Roman  Provincial 
Administration,  based  chiefly  on  the  Staatsverwaltung  of  Mar- 
quardt.  See  also  articles  "  Colonia  "  and  "  Fcederatfe  civitates  "  in 
the  last  edition  of  Smith's  Did.  of  Classical  Antiquities. 


xr  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATK  319 

herself  still  in  outward  form  a  City-State,  had  also 
long  ago  passed  beyond  the  limits  within  which  it 
was  possible  to  realise  at  its  best  the  life  of  this 
ancient  form  of  polity. 

It  will  thus  appear  that  there  were  two  leading 
principles  in  the  treatment  of  their  conquests  by  \ 
the     Eoman     oligarchy     of     the     Eepubhc :     first,  { 
government  by  the  Roman  city  magistrate,  under  ! 
supervision,    of   course,    by  the    great    oligarchical  i 
council ;  and  secondly,  local  self-government  within  '■ 
certain  limits,  as  yet  not  clearly  defined,  by  the   \ 
magistrates  and  councils  of  the  subject  cities.     For 
a  time  these  two  principles  worked  fairly  well  in 
combination  ;  so  long,  that  is,  as  the  Roman  oligarchy 
maintained  its  old  vigour  and  integrity,  and  so  long 
as  any  healthy  life  was  left  in   the   cities,  such  as 
might  fit  them  for  their  new  duties  as  the  municipal 
towns  of  a  great  empire.      During  the  greater  part 
of  the  period  of  its  growth  the   dominion  of  the 
Republic   was   so  far  a  success   that  it  astonished 
and  overawed  the  world ;  it  seemed  as  though  the 
universal  empire  were  at  last  about  to  be  realised, 
spreading  from  the  west  instead  of  from  the  east. 
But  time  showed  that  in  this  case  the  Roman  policy 
of  adaptation  was  in  all  essential  respects  a  failure. 
A  City-State  had  been  called  on  to  undertake  the 
government  of  an  empire  as  great  as  Alexander's ; 
and  the  machinery  and  the  morality  which  it  could 
bring    to    bear    upon   the   work   were  alike  found 
wanting.       The    machinery,  —  magistrates,   senate, 
and   people, — might  possibly  have  been  adequate 
to   the    task ;     but    for    the    good    government    of 


320  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

dependencies  you  must  have  more  than  machinery, 
—  you  must  have  also  conscience  and  self-re- 
straint. The  Eomans  might  extend  their  civic 
government  and  law,  but  they  could  not  extend 
their  ancient  civic  virtues,  to  the  government  of 
an  empire. 

The  story  of  this  failure  of  the  Eepublican 
Empire  is  familiar  enough ;  I  can  only  here  allude 
to  the  more  obvious  causes  of  it.^  The  governors 
of  provinces  began  to  enrich  themselves  by  using 
their  im'perimn  to  rob  their  subjects ;  and  there 
was*  no  way  found  of  keeping  them  under  proper 
control.  The  Senate,  admirable  in  the  management 
of  the  details  of  war  and  diplomacy,  could  discover 
no  effective  check  on  the  rapacity  of  the  governors, 
and  after  a  time  they  ceased  to  have  any  real 
desire  to  do  so.  There  was  no  real  guarantee  that 
the  local  institutions,  or  even  the  lives  and  the 
property,  of  the  subject  peoples  would  be  respected 
by  the  Eoman  governor ;  and  as  a  matter  of  fact 
they  were  often  treated  with  the  utmost  contempt. 
And  in  all  cases,  whether  the  governor  were  just  or 
unjust,  whether  or  no  he  adhered  to  the  terms  on 
which  local  government  had  been  granted  to  the 
cities  of  his  province,  the  life  of  the  City-State, 
which  had  been  so  long  decaying,  was  now  finally 
crushed  out  under  the  pressure  of  the  Eoman 
impermm.  True  loyalty  •  towards  that  impermm 
could  not  grow  up  under  such  a  system.  There 
was  no  solid  and  well-meaning  government  to  which 

^  Read  the  chapter  on  "  The  Govermnent  and  the  Governed  "  in 
the  second  vol.  of  Monimsen's  Hist,  of  Home. 


XI  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  321 

to  be  loyal.  There  was  therefore  little  apparent 
hope  that  a  great  imperial  State  could  be  constituted 
on  a  solid  and  permanent  basis,  which  might  embrace 
and  protect  the  innumerable  City-States  which  it 
had  absorbed.  There  was  no  principle  of  unity  in 
this  great  dominion, — such  unity  as  springs  from  the 
vigorous  action  of  a  strong  central  power,  aided  by 
responsible  subordinates  in  the  various  parts,  as 
well  as  by  the  healthy  local  action  of  the  smaller 
centres  of  which  it  was  composed. 

There  were  other  causes  too  at  work  which 
made  it  ahiiost  impossible  for  this  vast  dominion  to 
progress  successfully  towards  the  realisation  of  true 
political  unity.  There  was  the  startling  difference 
between  the  peoples  of  the  east  and  the  peoples -of 
the  west ;  between  the  Greeks,  including  all  who 
had  felt  the  magic  of  Greek  civilisation,  and  the 
inhabitants  of  Spain  and  Gaul,  who  had  as  yet 
developed  no  State,  no  law,  no  art,  and  no  literature. 
There  was  the  no  less  startling  distinction  between 
the  status  of  the  Eoman  citizen,  whose  life  and 
property  were  everywhere  sacred,  and  the  status  of 
the  citizen  of  a  subject  community,  which  might 
look  in  vain  to  the  Roman  governor  for  protection. 
There  was  again,  during  the  whole  of  the  last 
century  of  the  Eepublic,  constant  danger  from  the 
enemies  of  the  Eoman  power  on  its  frontiers ;  from 
powerful  kings  like  Jugurtha,  Mithridates,  or 
Ariovistus,  with  whom  the  Senate  could  only  cope 
by  allowing  ambitious  generals  to  continue  for 
years  in  command  of  large  armies,  thus  straining 
the   machinery    of  the   City- State   far    beyond  its 

Y 


322  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

natural  capacity  of  endurance.  And  lastly,  there 
was  that  fatal  stasis  within  the  State  itself  of  which 
I  have  already  spoken,  paralysing  the  energies  of 
men  whose  attention  should  have  been  given  to  the 
work  of  union  and  defence,  narrowing  their  views, 
embittering  their  hatreds,  and  making  all  honest 
discussion  in  the  great  council  ever  more  hopeless 
and  impossible. 

If  in  fact  we  test  the  Roman  dominion  in  the 
last  century  of  the  Republic  by  our  definition  of  the 
State  as  given  in  chapter  i.,  it  is  difficult  to  see  in 
what  sense  it  could  be  called  a  State  at  all.  Of  the 
natural  ties  it  had  none  ;  neither  community  of  race 
or  religion,  nor  of  common  feeling  and  history.  The 
common  government  which  constitutes  the  chief 
artificial  bond  in  a  State  it  was  indeed  supposed 
to  possess ;  but  this  government  had  grown  to  be 
so  weakened  and  discredited,  so  beset  by  enemies 
within  and  without,  that  it  could  hardly  be  said  to 
exist  except  in  name.  The  oligarchical  Senate 
could  no  longer  keep  its  magistrates  under  control, 
and  save  in  this  Senate,  to  which  the  whole  world 
had  once  looked  up  with  reverence,  there  was  no 
central  unifying  influence  to  be  found.  From  the 
City-State,  whether  in  Rome  or  her  dependencies, 
there  was  no  longer  any  regenerating  influence  to 
be  looked  for ;  its  part  in  the  history  of  the  world 
had  been  played  to  the  end.  It  is  clear  that  we 
have  come  at  last  to  the  end  of  our  story ;  that  one 
City-State  has  sucked  the  life  out  of  all  the  rest, 
and  has  herself  lost  her  ancient  Statehood  in  the 
gigantic    effort.       From    this    last  century  of  the 


XI  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  323 

Eepublic  the  City- State  may  truly  be  said  to  have 
ceased  to  exist. 

Yet  it  was  found  possible  to  build  up  out  of  the 
ruins  left  by  the  older  civilisation  a  new  State  of 
sufficient  strength  and  unity  to  supply  almost  all 
the  needs  which  in  this  melancholy  age  were  most 
keenly  felt.  When  the  Eoman  Eepublic  came  to 
an  end,  leaving  the  whole  dominion  in  conflict  and 
disorder,  what  was  most  urgently  needed  was  a  great 
central  unifying  force,  competent  to  protect  against 
invasion  from  without,  and  against  injustice  and 
dissension  from  within ;  something  to  which  to  be 
loyal ;  something  to  constitute  a  clear  visible  im- 
personation of  the  majesty  of  the  Eoman  government. 
Nor  was  this  all.  Within  the  State  so  constituted 
there  was  need  for  uniformly  organised  municipal 
life,  in  which  the  rights  and  duties  of  every  man 
should  be  clearly  laid  down  for  him,  even  in  the 
parts  most  distant  from  the  centre.  There  was 
need,  in  short,  for  an  order  and  a  civilisation  which, 
far  from  breaking  wholly  with  the  past,  should  be 
capable  of  retaining  and  handing  on  all  the 
treasures  which  the  City-State  had  accumulated, — 
treasures  of  government  and  legal  knowledge, 
treasures  of  literature  and  art,  of  science  and  of 
philosophy. 

For  a  few  brief  months  before  the  assassination 
of  the  Dictator  Csesar  an  outward  imperial  unity 
was  actually  realised.  There  was  a  general  peace, 
and  an  almost  universal  recognition  of  the  pre- 
eminent power  of  a  single  determined  ruler,  who, 


324  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

wherever  he  might  be  m  the  Empire,  was  a  centre 
of  government  far  more  effectual  than  the  City- 
Senate  of  the  last  few  generations.  This  extra- 
ordinary man  did  not  live  to  organise  the  new  State- 
unity  which  his  military  genius  had  forced  upon  the 
world.  There  is  indeed  sufficient  proof  that  he  was 
ready  as  well  as  able  to  put  his  hand  to  that  work.^ 
But  assassination  put  an  end  to  his  endeavours,  and 
his  death  was  followed  by  a  new  period  of  con- 
fusion. 

Then  at  last  upon  his  foundation  the  mighty 
fabric  began  slowly  to  arise.  In  its  first  form  it 
was  almost  complete  at  the  close  of  the  long  life  of 
Augustus.  That  skilful  architect,  with  the  true 
Eoman  instinct  to  pull  down  nothing  that  had  once 
been  erected,  and  with  the  just  feeling  that  the  Senate 
of  the  Eepublic  could  not  be  degraded  or  rudely  set 
aside,  perceived  that  the  ruins  of  the  great  City- 
State  of  Eome  might  be  embodied  in  the  new  struc- 
ture. Later  on,  as  men's  eyes  grew  accustomed  to 
the  fabric  that  was  being  reared,  the  old  fragments 
became  more  and  more  obscured,  though  they  were 
never  entirely  hidden ;  and  by  the  second  century 
A.D.  it  may  be  said  that  the  Eoman  Empire  was  an 
entirely  new  form  of  State,  such  as  the  world  had 
never  yet  seen,  and  had  hardly  as  yet  hoped  for. 

It  was  not  unlike  that  which  had  presented  itself 
to  the  mind  of  Alexander,  for  the  intellectual  forces 

^  In  the  Lex  Julia  Municipalis  and  the  Lex  Rubria,  regulating 
the  municipal  towns  of  Italy  and  Cisalpine  Gaul.  Of  the 
former  a  large  portion  is  extant  ;  of  the  latter  only  a  small  but 
valuable  fragment.  Bruns,  Fontes  juris  Eomani,  p.  91  foil. 
(ed.  4). 


XI  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  325 

at  work  in  it  were  in  the  main  Greek,  and  in  the 
system  of  its  construction  his  two  leading  ideas  of 
city-hfe  and  commercial  communications  were 
elaborately  carried  out.  It  resembled  his  transient 
dominion  also  in  the  fact  that  its  centre  of  gravity 
was  no  longer  a  City-State,  but  a  personality, — 
the  personality  of  the  Caesar  wherever  he  might  be 
in  the  Empire.  And  it  had  one  advantage  which 
Alexander's  empire  could  never  have  realised.  It 
drew  its  chief  material  strength,  not  from  worn-out 
Greece,  or  from  an  effeminate  East,  but  from  the 
youth  and  vigour  of  those  western  peoples,  the  fruits 
of  whose  civilisation  have  been  in  modern  times  the 
most  complete  justification  of  Eoman  conquest. 

It  was  not  indeed  a  perfect  system ;  there  were" 
weak  points  inherent  in  it,  some  of  which,  already 
indicated  in  this  chapter,  were  handed  on  to  it  from 
that  wholly  inadequate  system  with  which  the 
Eoman  Repul^lic  had  sought  to  govern  the  world. 
Yet  it  was  a  real  State,  united  together  by  artificial 
ties  of  great  power  of  endurance ;  and  what  has 
proved  for  us  even  more  valuable,  it  remained  for 
more  than  three  centuries  a  loyal  trustee  of  the 
treasure  which  the  City-State  had  bequeathed  to  it. 
The  literature,  the  art,  the  philosophy,  the  law, 
and  in  great  part  even  the  religion  of  the 
7roXt9,  were  valued  and  preserved  under  the  Eoman 
Empire,  which  thus  became  an  indestructible  bridge 
uniting  ancient  and  modern  civilisation. 

It  is  beyond  the  scope  of  this  little  book  to 
attempt  to  explain,  even  in  outline,  the  details 
of  this   great    structure,   or    to   point   out   how  it 


326  THE  CITY-STATE 


CHAP. 


supplied  the  demands  for  unity  and  local  organisa- 
tion, which  had  arisen  with  the  dissolution  of  the 
City-State.  But  the  Eonian  Empire  is  now  attract- 
ing the  attention  of  scholars  more  perhaps  than  any 
other  period  of  history,  owing  to  the  vast  accumula- 
tion of  valuable  evidence  which  the  collection  of  in- 
scriptions has  supplied  in  recent  years,  and  is  still 
steadily  increasing ;  and  as  the  work  to  be  done  is 
of  immense  extent,  and  of  infinite  human  interest, 
it  may  be  as  well  to  conclude  by  indicating  the 
several  lines  on  which  that  work  must  necessarily 
be  carried  on. 

First,  there  is  the  study  of  the  new  Imperial 
Constitution.  Here  the  special  interest  lies  in 
tracing  the  process  by  which  the  authority  of  the 
Caesar,  based  on  the  old  imperium,  and  called  by 
the  same  name,  came  in  tmie  to  penetrate  every 
department  of  government;  and  it  is  here  more 
particularly  fruitful  to  examine  the  methods  of  pro- 
vincial government,  because  it  is  in  the  provinces 
that  the  unifying  force  of  the  whole  system  may 
best  be  observed  at  work.  Augustus  had  left  the 
quieter  provinces  in  the  care  of  the  Senate,  which 
continued  to  send  out  its  proconsuls, — relics  of  the 
old  city-magistracy, — as  it  had  so  long  done  under 
the  "Republic  ;  while  he  himself,  like  Julius,  governed 
the  others  and  watched  the  enemies  of  the  State 
beyond  their  frontiers  by  the  agency  of  his  own 
delegates.  But  the  student  of  the  Empire  has  also 
to  learn  how  even  the  Senate  and  its  executive 
came  to  be  controlled  indirectly  by  the  supreme 
ruler,  and  how  by  slow  degrees  one  senatorial  pro- 


XI  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  327 

vince  after  another  passed  under  his  immediate 
authority.  If  we  open  the  correspondence,  most 
fortunately  preserved  to  us,  between  Trajan  and  his 
friend  Pliny  the  younger,  whom  he  had  sent  out  to 
regulate  the  province  of  Bithynia,  we  get  a  wonder- 
fully vivid  picture  of  the  working  of  the  new 
centralised  government.  This  province  had  been 
badly  administered  under  senatorial  rule,  and  was 
now  to  be  reorganised  by  a  delegate  of  the  emperor. 
The  lesson  we  learn  from  these  letters  is  that  to  be 
governed  by  the  delegate  was  equivalent  to  being 
governed  by  Trajan  himself  Even  at  a  distance 
of  1000  miles  Pliny  writes  to  consult  his  master 
on  matters  of  the  minutest  detail,  and  invariably 
receives  an  answer  sufficiently  definite  to  guide  him. 
These  answers  of  Trajan  are  very  brief  and  business- 
like ;  they  show  that  he  had  found  time  to  attend 
to  the  question  addressed  to  him,  and  that  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  upon  it ;  while  at  the  same  time 
they  often  leave  the  delegate  to  act  on  his  own 
discretion  without  needlessly  hampering  his  freedom 
of  action.  Nowhere  can  we  get  a  better  idea  of 
the  way  in  which  government  was  actually  carried 
on  in  this  new  form  of  State  by  an  intelligent  and 
industrious  ruler.^ 

Secondly,  there  is  the  study  of  the  various  forms 
of  local  government  within  each  province.  We  are 
still  learning  how  city-life  was  everywhere  en- 
couraged  and   organised ;  how  towns  were  formed 

^  These  letters  may  conveniently  be  consulted  in  Mr.  E.  G. 
Hardy's  edition  ;  a  good  example,  taken  at  random,  is  letter  65, 
with  Trajan's  reply,  which  follows  it. 


328  THE  CITY-STATE  CHAP. 

where  there  had  been  none  before,  whether  as 
Eoman  or  Latin  colonies,  or  as  accretions  round  the 
military  stations  of  the  legions,  or  by  the  gathering 
together  of  smaller  communities  round  a  newly 
founded  centre.  We  are  still  learning  how  the  local 
institutions  of  all  towns  were  regulated  on  the 
Roman  model  with  tolerable  uniformity ;  how  the 
central  authority  slowly  gained  an  increasing  influence 
over  them;  how  the  cities  were  grouped  together 
for  purposes  of  administration,  with  the  worship  of 
the  Caesars  as  a  unifying  factor ;  and  how  the 
enjoyment  of  life  was  made  possible  for  the  inhabit- 
ants by  the  erection  of  baths,  theatres,  and  porticoes. 
All  these  and  many  others  are  matters  of  which 
we  have  only  recently  come  to  know  much  or  fully 
to  appreciate  the  value.  To  take  the  question  of 
municipal  government  alone,  we  have  now  several 
valuable  documents  relating  to  this  subject,  which 
have  either  recently  been  discovered,  or  have  only 
of  late  years  been  adequately  interpreted,^  besides 
innumerable  inscriptions  of  less  value  individually, 
yet  each  making  its  contribution  to  our  knowledge 
of  the  whole.  At  any  moment  we  may  be  put  in 
possession  of  something  even  more  valuable  than 
any  of  these.  The  territory  of  the  Eoman  Empire 
is  full  of  monuments  which  still  lie  buried  beneath 

^  Besides  tlie  Lex  Julia  Mimicipalis  already  referred  to  we  have 
parts  of  the  "Lex  Colonic  Genetivse"  (a  Spanish  foundation  of 
Caesar's),  and  of  the  laws  regulating  two  Spanish  non-Roman  towns, 
Salpensa  and  Malaca.  Bruns,  Pontes,  etc.,  p.  110  foil.,  130  foil. 
Cf.  Mommsen,  Provinces  of  the  Roman  Empire,  p.  285  foil.  The 
whole  of  Mommsen's  chapter  vii.,  to  which  reference  is  here 
made,  may  well  be  carefully  studied  in  this  connection. 


XI  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  329 

its  ruins ;  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  if  we 
had  the  whole  number  of  inscriptions  set  up  in  any 
Koman  town  during  a  single  century,  we  should 
have  an  almost  perfect  picture  of  its  life  and 
government.    . 

Thirdly,  in  order  fully  to  understand  the  nature 
of  the  new  State  and  the  progress  towards  a  sub- 
stantial unity  of  all  its  parts,  it  is  necessary  to  have 
some  acquaintance  with  the  history  of  Eoman  law 
under  the  Empire,  and  of  what  is  closely  connected 
with  it,  the  history  of  the  incorporation  of  all  free 
inhabitants  into  the  Eoman  citizenship.  We  have 
seen  how  upon  the  law  of  the  City-State  {jus  civile) 
was  engrafted  a  new  body  of  legal  rules  {jus  gen- 
tium), through  the  agency  of  the  praetor  peregrinus, 
destined  in  time  to  cover  all  the  difficulties  that 
might  arise  between  man  and  man,  whether  Eoman 
or  non-Eoman.  Strictly  speaking,  this  new  law 
had  been  administered  in  Eome  only ;  in  the  pro- 
vinces either  the  local  communities  administered 
their  own  law,  or  the  provincial  governor  decided 
cases  after  his  own  method, — that  method  being 
often  arbitrary,  and  not  necessarily  brought  into 
harmony  with  the  principles  on  which  the  praetor 
was  acting  at  home.  Only  in  communities  of  Eoman 
or  Latin  citizens  was  the  Eoman  law  alone  supreme. 
But  even  before  the  Eepublic  came  to  an  end  it  is 
probable  that  many  non-Eoman  towns  voluntarily 
adopted  the  Eoman  law.  And  at  the  same  time 
we  find  the  process  of  extending  the  citizenship  to 
such  towns  already  beginning ;  so  that,  just  as 
Eoman  law  had  become  the  general  law  of  Italy 


330  THE  CITY-STATE  chap. 

after  the  citizenship  had  been  extended  to  all  the 
Italians,  so  it  now  sets  out  on  its  course  of  extension 
over  the  whole  civilised  world.  The  process  was 
complete  in  the  year  212  A.D.  when  Caracalla  gave 
the  Eoman  franchise  to  all  free  inhabitants  of  the 
Empire,  so  that  one  uniform  legal  system  was  hence- 
forward in  use  from  Syria  to  Britain.  And  mean- 
while that  system  was  being  perfected  by  the  most 
illustrious  series  of  lawyers  that  the  world  has  ever 
seen ;  men  from  all  parts  of  the  Empire,  some  of 
whom  brought  the  acute  intelligence  of  the  Greek 
to  the  aid  of  the  practical  good  sense  of  the  Eoman 
legal  mind.^ 

Without  going  fui-ther,  it  will  be  possible  to 
gain  from  such  studies  as  these  some  idea  of  the 
nature  of  the  new  imperial  State  which  arose  out 
of  the  scattered  ruins  of  the  older  one.  There  are 
indeed  other  lines  of  research  in  the  history  of  the 
Empire,  in  themselves  of  the  deepest  interest,  which 
bear  less  directly  on  the  political  aspect  of  the  age, 
yet  reveal  to  us  more  of  that  life  and  thought  of 
the  people  which  is  to  the  State  itself  as  the  circu- 
lating blood  to  the  living  animal.  There  is  the  •/ 
study  of  the  economical  conditions  of  life  in  the  | 
various  parts  of  the  Empire ;  of  the  way  in  which 
land  was  held  and  cultivated,  of  the  methods  of 
commerce  and  credit,  of  the  distribution  of  wealth 
among  the  various  classes  of  society,  the  incidence 
of  taxation,  and  the  prices  of  the  necessaries  of 
life.     Again  there  is  the  whole  range  of  the  litera- 

^  See  Sohm's  Institutes  of  Roman  Law  (translated  by  Ledlie), 
cli.  ii. 


XI  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  CITY-STATE  331 

ture  of  the  Empire ;  a  literature  quite  distinct 
from  that  of  the  vigorous  youth  of  the  City- State, 
when  thought  and  action  were  more  completely  in 
harmony,  and  creative  power  more  natural  and  ' 
spontaneous.  The  literature  of  the  Empire  is 
neither  civic  nor  national ;  it  has  not  the  freshness 
and  originality  which  civic  or  national  life  alone 
can  give.  But  it  reflects  the  life  and  thought  of 
a  Graeco-Eoman  age,  and  whether  it  be  Greek  or 
Eoman,  the  traces  of  ancient  nationality  are  now  i 
merged  in  the  consciousness  of  a  new  and  cosmo- 
politan era.  Lastly,  the  religious  history  of  the 
Empire  offers  a  vast  field  of  study  which  has  as 
yet  been  only  half  explored.  Here,  more  clearly^ 
perhaps  than  elsewhere,  we  may  be  able  to  trace 
the  gradual  dissolution  of  the  older  forms  of 
thought  and  life.  The  intensely  local  character 
of  the  religion  of  the  City-State  now  gives  place 
to  a ,  new  religion  of  the  jworld.  The  old  city- 
worships, — the  divine  inhabitants  of  each  individual 
^city, — die  out  slowly  but  surely ;  at  first,  under 
the  influence  of  the  all-pervading  worship  of  tlie 
Caesars,  and  later,  under  the  irresistible  spell  of/ 
a  new  religion,  of  which  the  inspiring  principle  was 
the  brotherhood  of  all  men. 

The  Eoman  Empire  was  at  last  broken  up ;  it 
had  its  own  inherent  weaknesses,  which  increased 
as  time  went  on,  and  rendered  it  incapable  of 
further  resistance  to  the  flood  of  barbarism  which 
had  long  been  surging  on  its  frontiers.  But  it 
had  accomplished  its  work.  Had  the  northern 
peoples  swept  over  the  Empire  in  the  last  century 


L332__  THE  CITY-STATE  chap,  xi 

of  the  Eepublic,  it  is  not  impossible  that  the  world 
might  have  lost  for  ever  all  or  most  of  what  man- 
kind  had  learnt  in  the  age  of  the  City-State.  As 
it  was,  the  Eoman  Empire  of  the  Csesars  held  the 
barbarians  at  bay  long  enough  to  inspire  them  with 
such  reverence  for  its  own  greatness,  that  the  rich 
legacy  which  it  had  inherited  from  its  forefathers 
of  the  TToXt?  could  not  be  entirely  dissipated  in  the 
general  confusion  which  followed  its  downfall. 


THE  END. 


Printed  by  R.  &  R.  Clark,  Edinburgh. 


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